The Invisible Girl
by luckyricochet
Summary: "Few who knew him then are prepared to talk about him." - Albus Dumbledore. Tom Riddle wasn't always alone. Evelyn Spencer grows up alongside him, first at Wool's Orphanage and then at Hogwarts. Although both children are orphans, they are not the same in any other way: he is entranced by magic; she is wary of it. But somehow they become friends.
1. Part I: Chapter 1 – Brightness

**PART I**

**Chapter 1 - Brightness**

...

A chirping of birds outside my window stirred me. Through the thin curtain, sunlight was slanting into the room. The sound of light footsteps was absent from in the hall. No other children must have been awake.

I sat up, groggy and rubbing my eyes. For a while I sat on the bed, my blankets wrapped around me. It was a clear August morning. The only sounds I could hear were those singing birds and the ticking of the wall clock. I stretched, discarded my blanket, and made for my water basin that was across the room under a small mirror. The splash of the cold water was a relieving shock, and I blinked the drops out of my eyes.

Summers at the orphanage were always bland. There was no routine to any day, no school to attend. If Mrs. Cole ever got around to planning anything (she was always so busy, poor woman), such events were sporadic and in-between at best. Other then going down to the dining hall three times a day, there was no set structure to what orphans were to do with their day. Sometimes they went into London with a chaperone, but most milled about in Wool's, waiting for that blessed day for when they would be taken away to a family.

I dressed, combed my hair, and left my room to the lavatory at the other end of the hall that all the orphans on the third floor shared. Amy Benson was there at the sink, staring into the mirror. "Good morning, Amy," I said. She caught sight of my reflection and spun around. Her mouth was a tight line, and without a word, she bolted from the room. She never replied to me anymore, or anyone for that matter. A few years ago we'd gone to the seaside and when we came back, she had stopped speaking to anyone. Dennis Bishop too, one of her friends. I brushed my teeth and went to leave for breakfast when I bumped into someone coming down the hall.

"Watch where you're going, Evelyn!" a voice said.

I looked up, my thoughts scattering. Alice, already a pretty child at thirteen, glared down at me over her narrow nose."You're so stupid. No wonder your parents dumped you here."

I wanted to remind her that her parents had technically done the same. Alice was the most bitter of all the orphans, even though she was by no means the one who had been here the longest. "Leave me alone," I mumbled.

"Aw, did I hurt the widdle girl's feelings?" Alice simpered, leaning down to look me in the eye with her own green ones. Her face turned ugly with a scowl. I stepped back, hating her. "Fix up your hair before you go down to breakfast," she snapped. "No one is ever going to want you if you look like that." She tossed her ebony black curls and continued walking down the hall, banging on the doors to wake the other orphans up.

I was seething. I stared after her, boiling on the inside, restraining every fiber in my being to not run after her and shout in her face.

Right as she passed the door across mine, I saw the light on the wall fizzle. It took only a second to register what was happening.

The lamp burst apart with a flash. I started, but kept my stance, staring. Alice had screamed, crouched down on the floor. The hall was now dark, but nothing was lost on Alice. She scrambled up and felt her face. She gasped, and as she flew down the hall back to her room, I caught sight of a red mark about the size of a thumbprint on her temple. The bulb must have burned her when the lamp broke.

I stumbled to the wall and leaned against it, shaking. I looked around myself. Broken pieces of glass were scattered on the scarred wooden floor boards. The remnants of the fixture still attached to the wall were jagged, a few of the wires still burning red and dimming to black even as I watched them.

Amid the ruckus, one of the doors opened, the door across from my own room. Tom Riddle appeared, looking as bored and sullen as usual, unfazed by the commotion. I stiffened at the sight of him. He glanced around at the pieces of broken lamp and then slowly to me.

"Did you do this?" he asked.

"How could I have done that?" I demanded.

He didn't answer, but instead looked at something behind me. Alice had patched herself messily, a bit of rouge smeared awkwardly over her burn. Instead of making a a beeline for us, as I expected her to do, she instead fled down the steps. I now stood at the end of the hall with Tom. Suddenly feeling awkward, I dismissed myself and followed suit downstairs.

Breakfast was a somber affair. Alice, fussy after the incident, sulked at her table place, ignoring even those who she relished in abusing. I ate my eggs and toast alone, keeping my eyes glued to the plate and letting a few strands of my blonde hair cover my face. The orphanage advisors walked among the tables, making conversation with some of the children occasionally. I wasn't sure if it was the fact that we were all despondent about being orphans, or it was the old building, but everything about Wool's carried with it some sort of loneliness. We were all just grays and smears in this London city, which was so vibrant and full compared to us. The orphanage workers were all kind women who tried to keep us happy, but many of them were there for local charity, dispatched here by their church, staying for a few months only and then leaving when they had done their service. Mrs. Cole, Martha, and a few others were the only permanent ones.

Presently Tom entered the dining hall. He took up a serving of food and chose an empty table to sit at. Just as well: In the eleven years that I had been at Wool's, I had never seen Tom ever eat with anyone willingly, nor had I seen anyone join him willingly. I might have worried that he was bullied, but that wasn't the case. He was too intimidating. Even the older ones avoided him. I wasn't as careful; it would be too difficult, what with our rooms across the hall from each other. Sometimes we caught each other going in or out of our respective chambers. Our chance meetings were silent and quick. At most we would have a second's worth of eye contact before we continued on with our business. No other acknowledgement, words, and certainly not any other smiles. Tom didn't smile.

While I pondered him, Alice had risen from her seat. She had regained her haughty composure and seemed ready to properly tell me off. As I pushed my plate away from me, I saw her march my way resolutely. A stab of trepidation coursed through me.

She never reached me. Halfway between her place and mine, she stopped short. She bent over, hands clutching at her middle. She groaned audibly, letting out harsh gasping sounds, her breath sharp and raspy as she hunched over at almost a right angle.

"Alice!" Several others gathered around her, Mrs. Cole at the front. "What is it?"

Alice couldn't speak, though. She just shook her head. "Let's get you to the infirmary, shall we…" someone said, and I saw Alice being hobbled off with Mrs. Cole. I surveyed the hall; no one else was sick like Alice been, and I myself felt fine as well, so it probably hadn't been the meal. Tom alone wasn't bothered by the trouble. He continued to eat, his disinterest unnerving me. Even though everyone was mostly their own roving spheres, save for the few cliques among certain people, we all invested a certain degree of interest in each other, no matter who it was.

"All right, children, that's enough; no need to cause a scene…" came an order. Breakfast was near over anyway, and we all began to disperse. I had nothing to do, so returned to my room. At the end of the hall, Tom stood there, still. When had he made it up the stairs before me? I averted my gaze as I drew nearer and had my hand on the doorknob when I heard him speak to me again.

"Wait."

I did not lower my hand but turned slightly to show him I was listening.

He didn't say anything again, instead coming closer to me. I felt a little prickle inside. My misgivings about Tom were forefront in my mind: Tom was a strange boy. Always by himself, looking unhappy. There were rumors about him...of him scaring other children, doing things to them. I could tell Mrs. Cole was always fretting about him, or over him, or something. Recently I'd heard it had to do with some hanged pet rabbit that had been found in the attic. It scared me just to think about it. He looked at me intensely, his black eyes boring into me. He seemed almost excited, breathless.

"You're the one who made the lamp break," Tom said slowly. "You say you didn't, but you know it was, don't you?"

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"Nothing else…has ever happened?" His words were ordinary, but his tone was not. I knew what he meant. I didn't like it.

I thought back to two winters ago, when the sidewalk had suddenly frozen under Alice's feet and causing her to slip backward rather ridiculously as we all walked back home from school. And the time our headmaster was ridden with horrible boils, thus relieving me of having to serve out my punishment of writing lines…a punishment administered after I had been blamed for causing a "disturbance" in class by somehow inflating the trousers of my teacher as he gave a lesson. I remembered these events distinctly, clearly, but they…had nothing to do with Tom was saying now.

"Nothing," I said stoutly.

"You're lying," Tom said immediately. "And you know it." His voice lowered to a whisper. "You and I—there's something that goes on—"

"Stop talking like that," I said. "You're not making any sense—" Not wanting to stay in that corridor any longer, I fled down the stairs. I could feel his stare watching be as I descended the steps.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!**


	2. Part I: Chapter 2 – Cold

**Chapter 2 - Cold**

Wool's wasn't the worst of all places. I thought myself relatively lucky to be here and not on the streets. Mrs. Cole was as nice as I could have hoped for and looked after us well. She remembered all of our birthdays and always have us a small gift when the day came. Nothing fancy, perhaps just a few colored pens to use in our spare time, or a small magnifying glass for the outdoors. None of it was of much substantial use, but we all knew that frugality was of the utmost importance here. The fact that we received anything at all was much appreciated by us all.

We revolved on our own. There were children I was friendly with, but I had no friends. A lot of the orphans were like that, except Tom, who had no friends and wasn't friendly with anyone either. I thought the older ones were a little better off. They had friends at school. But no one ever really was at Wool's too long. People came and went. On the days when visitors arrived, we all wore our best and waited in our rooms, and one by one, Mrs. Cole would introduce us. They'd speak to us for a few minutes, then leave. Some were tactful about disguising their disinterest; others less so. It didn't make a difference to me. I knew I was too timid to like much.

It was easier to endure in the warm months. We could go out into the courtyard for some air. There were a few patches of flowers that we could look after, and sometimes we brought out balls or a skipping rope. When we had something to do, the disappointment wasn't as acute.

But winter was solemn. It was especially cold in the dormitory corridors, where the walls were brick, and not wood like down in the dining hall. We didn't have hearths in our room, so we padded extra towels at the bottom of the doors and windows to block the drafts. A feeling of isolation and loneliness set in upon us. Wool's was...slower during the winter. I noticed fewer visitors called then.

And when there was one lucky child who was selected from our orphanage, the new parents would come, put an arm around their new son or daughter, and the three would leave. Sometimes there would be siblings, and it would be a group of four or five. Before the child was whisked away, we would all gather around for congratulations, or at least some did. Alice certainly was not shy about hiding her resentment, and many of the little ones were simply to small to try. I tried to be happy for whoever it was, but I, too, found it hard to genuinely not feel any bitterness. I was only glad such occasions were rare here.

We were an odd bunch. Some orphans were there because their parents were too poor to keep them on. Others were here because they had run away from their homes. Their parents had lost custody over them for hurting them, or something like that. I didn't really understand it. Most of us were here because our parent were dead. Many had known their parents before arriving at Wool's. Sometimes these children were taken to visit their parents' graves, usually around Christmas. I always counted myself as one of the lucky ones. I figured my parents were dead, though I didn't remember them at all. I had no idea how they had died, either. Mrs. Cole had a big leather-bound volume with all the details she could uncover about any family we orphans had, and the various members'...status. My file was nearly non-existent. No siblings or uncles or aunts or grandparents to speak of. It didn't bother me particularly. I was curious, of course, about my relations, and I wouldn't turn down an invitation to learn more about them. But their mystery never bothered me, at least in the way it seemed to bother Tom.

It seemed all Tom ever wanted to know about was his family. He already knew more than I did, though. His mother was confirmed to be dead; she had died right on the front step of Wool's giving birth to him. Told Mrs. Cole with her last breath that he was to be named after his father, Tom Riddle, Sr.. Ever since he learned this, Tom would spend hours at the library, looking through the dusty archives, trying to find something about his father.

As for me, I didn't care as much. Whoever my parents were, they were gone. I had accepted this a long time ago. No amount of digging through the books would change the fact that I was still alone. They were so distant; I had no memory of them. I didn't need any, nor did I really want any. What I did want was someone to love me and for me to love back. Whether or not we shared any blood meant nothing to me.


	3. Part I: Chapter 3 – An Impossible Answer

**Chapter 3 - An Impossible Answer**

**...**

Tom's words nagged at me for the rest of the day. I didn't like the sound of them. The way he said them; it made me feel..different. That couldn't be, not here.

Mrs. Cole came into my room sometime in the afternoon. "Evelyn, I wanted to tell you: someone is coming to speak to you soon. I believe he will be here tomorrow."

"Who?" I asked immediately. "A man?" I had no family of which I knew; who could it be? "How does he know I'm here?"

"Yes, a man," Mrs. Cole. "No relation, but it is very important that he sees you." She dithered a little, and then admitted, "Tom will be seeing him as well. The man seemed quite intent on the matter."

"But why would he need to talk to Tom as well?" I persisted with my questions.

"I'm not sure," Mrs. Cole said. "But it is very important. See that you are prepared."

_ Prepared for what?_ I wanted know, but Mrs. Cole had already left.

I crossed paths with Tom later that day. He examined me, with that calculating look of his. "Mrs. Cole says someone is coming to talk to us tomorrow," he said.

"Yes," I said. "She told me."

Tom's eyes were burning. "She thinks we're funny. She thinks we're mad. Whoever this man is, he's going to take us away. I know it." He sounded like he said this last part to just himself.

"Tom, what are you saying?" I stammered. "Where could he take us?"

"I don't know!" Tom exclaimed, sounding frustrated. "The country, or an asylum, or somewhere. But we aren't staying here."

"I'm not mad—"

"I know you aren't," Tom said fiercely. "She doesn't agree. And I know we're different, but we're not mad."

"I'm not different either, Tom," I said. "Why do you say such things?"

"You _are_," Tom hissed. "You—" He broke off, too worked up to speak. "You cannot think that you are not, not when—You are different. And you must come to accept it." He was done arguing with me, I saw, and he returned to his room.

* * *

From my window, I could see the man walk up to the door. It was raining, so he was just a gray smudge. Someone was yelling for Mrs. Cole, and I felt a ripple of excitement. He would be here soon.

Footsteps were approaching my room. I got up from where I had been sitting on the bed and pressed myself against the window, gripping the sill. Mrs. Cole's muffled voice came through the door; I heard her stumbling over the man's name before she suddenly poked her head into my room.

"He's speaking with Tom first, then he'll come straight here."

I nodded my agreement, tight-lipped.

"Evelyn, my girl, are you quite all right?"

I smiled. "Quite all right, Mrs. Cole."

"Well, I will leave you to it, then."

I nodded again, but remained on the sill when she had gone. What was happening across the hall, I wondered. More muffled noises, but slightly louder. It sounded like shouting. I remembered the intensity in Tom's gaze when we had met the day before. He had been adamant that the man would be examining us, or we'd be leaving the orphanage. Perhaps he was right, and Tom was putting up a fight in the next room. I wouldn't put it past him.

The noise had died down, but now it was starting back up again. Just for a second. It sounded more like just a shout—not words. My nails scraped against wood of the sill. I told myself to relax, but I couldn't help it. I always had to grip something when I was nervous.

It seemed an eternity later when I finally heard Tom's door move once more. I was seizing up within myself, tightening and twisting. Any moment, my own door would open—

"Ah, hello. You must be Evelyn Spencer."

I stayed stark still at the man, unable to move. If I hadn't suspected what he was here for, I still would have been thrown by him: his appearance was certainly bizarre enough. He sported rich auburn hair, longer than I had ever seen on any respectable-looking man before in my life, and a beard of the same color as well. His face was already lined, suggesting age, but his eyes, blue like mine, were unusually bright and held a mischievous twinkle. A prominent, crooked nose was in between them. My eyes darted to his clothes, a purple suit of velvet. I dared to look back at his face for a moment for a second appraisal and found him smiling at me. I did not return it.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. Please, I must ask you to sit. Let's have a chat, shall we?" He gestured to the bed, having already taken the sole chair that occupied the room. I was not inclined to move closer to him, but he did not seem as if he would speak unless I did. Reluctantly, I lowered myself onto the end of my bed and forced myself to look at him, folding my hands in my lap. Dumbledore beamed again.

"Very good. Now, as I have said, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I just finished talking with your neighbor from across the hall. Perhaps Mrs. Cole told you that I would be looking in on him as well?"

I did not respond. Dumbledore chuckled. "You two are quite different," he noted. "The boy, he would not stop talking. You are quite the opposite. You are how old, Evelyn?"

"Eleven," I replied. The question was innocent enough, I judged.

"Very good," he said again. "Excellent. Now—this boy, Tom Riddle. Are you friends with him?"

"I would not say that," I said after a moment. "Tom doesn't really have friends. He doesn't speak much with the other orphans."

"But he speaks with you, does he not?"

"Yes, I suppose he does," I admitted.

Dumbledore stood and strode around the room. "And what has he talked to you about lately?" He paused at the rainy window and looked out through the glass, waiting my answer.

I remembered what Tom had told me, of course. But I did not want to say it. "Nothing important," I lied.

Dumbledore resumed his walking and stopped in front of me. "Are you quite sure, Evelyn?" His eyes had lost their geniality and were hard now. "Mrs. Cole told me that an Alice Talbot was burned today by a lamp," he said abruptly. "Alice apparently blamed you for it." He raised his eyebrows at me.

"What do you want me to say about it?" I said, a little too defensively.

"Perhaps…Tom had commented to you about it afterward? What did he say?"

I had taken to worrying the bed post. I looked away from him and instead examined the front of my dress, not wanting to answer. I heard a scrape and knew that Dumbledore had sat down again.

"It is not my wish to frighten you," he said. "I am not a doctor, not a scientist. I am not here to take you to an asylum of any sort."

"Then who are you?" I demanded suddenly, facing him once more. "I want to know who you are before I tell you anything.'

The man seemed surprised, but pleased. "I am a professor. I teach at a school. The reason I am here today is to inform you that you are to be a student of mine there."

"A student?" I repeated. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dumbledore, but you've got it wrong. I already go to a school, here in London. I never applied to any other school."

"You didn't have to," Dumbledore said. "We've had you registered since your birth."

"How could you possibly know that?" I said. "What school is this?"

"Its name is Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You, Evelyn Spencer, are a witch."

Silence.

I stared at him. "I'm—a witch?" Dumbledore nodded. "That's—that's impossible. Witches don't exist."

"They do," Dumbledore corrected me. "I understand this is a shock, but it is the truth. That explosion that burned Alice Talbot. Tom says she had provoked you. You were angry. When young witches and wizards become emotional, they accidentally cause accidents through their magical abilities…does that not help explain anything in your life that has not had an explanation before?"

I felt as if this question had been asked of me so often recently. Now here was a man giving me supposedly the definitive answer to everything…everything that I had wondered about. I looked back at him.

"I can't be a witch, though!" I protested. "I can't go off to this school; the orphanage is all I have."

"You will discover you have much more at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said seriously. "More than you will ever have here."

I resented him for saying so. I didn't want what he was offering, and he didn't know what I had here, either. I wanted to stay here. The orphanage was the only place where I had a chance of being found by a family. Other students and teachers…they weren't family. I didn't reveal any of this, though. "And…you are magic?"

"That I am. Tom was quite eager to see a demonstration; would you care for one?"

"No," I said. "No, I don't want to see any of it."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "I have told you what I needed to tell you. I will be leaving now." From inside his suit, he retrieved an envelope. "This is for you. It has in it the a note from the deputy headmaster regarding your official placement at Hogwarts, as well as a supplies list for the classes you will be taking and a train ticket. Do not lose it; it is very important. I shall be back within the week to take you to buy your things. I would invite Tom, but he has insisted he take care of himself. In the mean time, this is also for you, for safekeeping also." He set a leather pouch onto the bed. "A bit of money, to help you along. The wizarding world uses a different currency than Muggles, that is, non-magical persons. I doubt you have any wizarding money on hand, so this will be sufficient for now. It is possible we will be able to investigate into your parentage. If they were also magical, they will have had a bank account that is to your disposal."

This was too much. "Mr. Dumbledore, I can't—" I stopped, feeling about to break into tears. "Mr. Dumbledore, I don't want to go to your school; I can't! What am I supposed to do there? I don't want to be different," I cried. "I don't want to be different."

Dumbledore turned. That old smile was back again. "I believe you," he said. "But you aren't alone. You won't be different at Hogwarts."

That wasn't what I meant. I was different in the normal world. Who would adopt me now? Anyone would have to be told the truth. No one would want a girl like me.

There was nothing that could be done, though. Dumbledore was adamant that I'd be going to his school, whether I wanted to or not. I was a witch.


	4. Part I Chapter 4 – Conflict of Curiosity

**Chapter 4 - Conflict of Curiosity**

**...**

I spent the rest of the day alone in my room. There was too much to process and I didn't want to be around anyone else, Tom especially.

A witch?

I stared at myself in the mirror. I had nothing remotely pecuilar to hint at such a possibility. Carefully, I ran my hands over each other. The blue veins stood out glaringly through my skin. What was in their blood that made me a witch, that made Tom a wizard? And there were hundreds more like us. Living somewhere called Hogwarts, learning things I couldn't begin to imagine. How could Tom be so excited about this?

I didn't want to believe it. There was no such thing. If I was a witch, surely I would _know_ that? How could a girl live eleven years of her life and not know that? It was ridiculous, I scoffed to myself. Perhaps with Tom, it was true, I conceded. But not with me. Dumbledore was mistaken...

Only he wasn't. Somewhere inside me, I knew it to be true. No matter how much I didn't want it, it was there.

I looked at my hands again. What were they capable of? I pushed one of them forward experimentally: nothing happened. I wasn't expecting anything, though. Dumbledore had said it was only when we were emotional that we would be triggered. But still…I wanted to know.

I slipped out of my room, giving Tom's a brief glance before heading on my way to the infirmary. The infirmary was a wretched place in the orphanage, or more so than most places, at least. It was a little bigger than my room; I believe it might have been used for an office once. It housed three beds, the same ones that all the orphans slept on normally, each one surrounded by an old curtain. A sink had been installed into the wall, and there was a desk and cupboard in addition to the closet, but nothing more. We didn't even have a proper nurse, only an old book with age old remedies.

I was surprised to find the room empty, since Alice was in one of the beds. Normally there was someone there to watch over the patients. Her curtain was only slightly drawn. She was lying down, arms cushioning her head. She hadn't heard me approach.

"Alice? It's Evelyn."

She turned toward me briefly and then returned to staring up at the ceiling. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to see if—if you were feeling better." I walked closer to her bed. She pointedly shifted to the far side.

Alice snorted. "Get away. I'm resting."

"Do you feel better?" I persisted.

"No."

"Would you like me to help? I can get you a glass of water, perhaps."

"If you want to help, you can leave."

"I know how you are feeling, Alice," I said.

"Why should you care?"

I couldn't answer that. For all she knew, it was just a bad stomachache, but I knew it had something to do with me. But how could I tell this to Alice—?

"That's what I thought," she said. She wasn't going to say anymore, and I left.

* * *

Dinner came and went. Alice remained in the infirmary, to my disappointment. If she had come to the dining hall to eat, I might have believed she was doing better.

I cast a sideways look over to Tom. He was not looking at me, as I thought he might have been. But when I stood, he did too. I felt his eyes on my back as I went up the stairs.

On the landing, I nearly ran into Mrs. Cole. She was carrying a laundry basket full of linens, coming from, what looked like, the infirmary.

"Oh, sorry, Mrs. Cole," I apologized.

"Nothing to worry about, Evelyn," she replied and made to go down the stairs.

"Is Alice..." I motioned with my hands.

Mrs. Cole appraised me and then sighed. "I'm afraid not. She's in quite a bit of pain with her stomach, just lying there. I'm jiggered to find out what's the matter with her." She sighed again. "We may need to bring in a doctor to have him take a look at her." Mrs. Cole shook her head worriedly and moved along.

I stayed rooted on the landing. If anything, Alice had worsened.

A throat was cleared behind me, and I jumped. I had almost forgot Tom was there. I turned to face him, disheartened.

"Dumbledore, he told you, didn't he?" Tom asked. I nodded. "Well, what are you looking so miserable for then?"

I swallowed. "I don't want it," I whispered. "You heard Mrs. Cole; Alice can't even move. Now they'll have to bring a real doctor in. The orphanage doesn't have the kind of money!" I averted my eyes and stared down at the floor. "All it's doing is hurting people. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I didn't think you were so daft," Tom said disbelievingly. "You learn to control it at Hogwarts. Dumbledore said so. Besides, at the beginning of next month we'll be gone. Forget about Alice. She's a waste."

Gone. Away from the orphanage, away from everyone else.

Tom scowled at my continued doubt. "That's not an improvement?"

I shook my head. "No—no, it's not. I want..." I looked at him. Who knew if Tom would be able to understand? Whenever people came, he was always surly or solemn. He didn't smile when people gushed over his comeliness, and when they left having confided in Mrs. Cole that they wanted a child who wasn't him, he never was the sorrier. He didn't seem to want a family at all.

* * *

On Saturday, Dumbledore was back. I met him in the foyer with the envelope he had given me. I hadn't touched it since, hadn't looked at any of its papers.

"Good morning, Evelyn," he said when I approached him. "Are you ready?"

"I suppose," I said, and went through the door that he held open. We didn't speak on our walk to the Tube. He knew I was still wary of him. The fact that I was was confusing. If he was not magic, he would have been perfectly pleasant. I had gathered that he was kind, gentle, and soft. But there was so much potential in him. It put me off, imagining what things he was capable of.

"You're still not accepting of magic, I see," Dumbledore said casually. We were descending underground now.

I jumped, luckily not slipping on the steps. "How do you know?" I asked, guarded.

"It's not that difficult to tell," he said.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I can't help it. And Tom, he thinks it's all so wonderful. He doesn't understand."

Dumbledore didn't pry as we boarded a train to Charing Cross Road. Rush hour had passed already, and the carriage only had a few people in it, for which I was grateful. Dumbledore was dressed even more oddly today, having traded his velvet suit for robes of midnight blue today. I sat hoping to block his appearance and dissuade the strangers from giving us looks, but he was much bigger than I was. I couldn't do much about it.

"Ah! Here we are," Dumbledore exclaimed after a few stops. "Follow me from here on out, Evelyn."

I did as I was told. As we climbed the stairs back to the surface, I felt my heart beat faster with a mix of apprehension and anticipation. We were passing all of the shops that I had seen before, but one of them must have been the one Dumbledore was looking for. He finally stopped and pointed in between a book shop and record store.

"Notice that pub, Evelyn, in between these two stores." He nodded towards where I should be looking. I recognized the place vaguely, from the store front, but only now just read the lettering above the door: The Leaky Cauldron. It was shabbier than its neighbors, a little run-down.

"This is…?" I began questioningly.

"Your access point to Diagon Alley from Muggle London," Dumbledore said, starting to walk toward it. "You'll want to remember this place for the coming years."

I looked around. "Why doesn't anyone else go in?" I asked, catching up to Dumbledore.

"Wizarding buildings that are built in the Muggle world have enchantments placed upon them so Muggles don't see them," Dumbledore explained. "Either that, or they don't see them for what they really are. The ruins of an old construction sight, or a particularly ominous alley-way, perhaps. Ah, now here we are." I followed him into the pub.


	5. Part I: Chapter 5 – Apple and Flowers

**Chapter 3 - Apple and Flowers**

**...**

It was the busiest place I had ever been. People were all over the place, many of the shoppers were bizarre-looking like Dumbledore too. Some were abnormally short, others had flyaway hair, and all of them wore robes similar to Dumbledore's. Through the throng, I saw a sign hanging above the streets, reading _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. I took comfort with some of the stalls selling familiar objects: flowers, jewelry, and roasted chestnuts.

"Stay close, Evelyn," Dumbledore called. "Diagon Alley is always dreadful this time of year. All the students are coming back to buy their supplies."

Supplies indeed, though I saw no pencils or notebooks of any kind being advertised. Peddlers were crowing about their potions and brews, dragon-skin gloves and fine feather quills. Through the shop windows, I could see books in many of the stores, piled high to the ceiling but somehow not falling over. Right on the streets, barrels filled with exotic animal parts stood open for shoppers to inspect.

And all around, magic was being performed. Bags were floating above people's heads, spills on the cobbled road being cleaned, extinguished lights being re-ignited. Everyone had a wand on them, a long, smooth piece of wood. I caught only a few glimpses of them, but I could see all of them were slightly different, whether in length or color.

"All this…" I began slowly, " is magic?"

"It certainly is," Dumbledore. "So as you can see, Evelyn, it is not all bad. Let's stop here, shall we?"

I craned my neck to read the post above me: _Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment_. "It's always wise to acquire the least cumbersome first," Dumbledore said serenely.

It was packed in here, too. I saw more children my age, clutching packages under their arms. Older students milled about too, standing in front of the cases that shelved what seemed like the more expensive, finer equipment.

Dumbledore, I realized, had not moved. I wondered if he was going to direct me some place, but instead he only gestured forward. "Take your pick, Evelyn. Though, do keep in mind we have a budget. In your pouch are a hundred galleons, and city sickles and knuts each." At his mentioning, I peered into the bag he had also given me. I had not looked at the coins once, but saw now they were numerous, in gold, silver and bronze.

Slowly, I ventured into the store, unfolding my supply list. One telescope, one set of glass or crystal phials, one pair of protective gloves, and one set of brass scales. The shelves and counters were covered all over. Some things were labeled as self-cleaning, or non-spill. I didn't see how that could be possible, but put it out of my mind. I managed to collect my required items and brought them to Dumbledore.

"Yes?"

I held my arms out, laden with the supplies. "Are these all right?"

He seemed surprised. "Well, certainly, if they are the ones you want. Are they?"

I looked down at them again, suddenly feeling tearful. He was treating me like I was supposed to know which items were good and which weren't. I didn't have the slightest idea of what made a good pair of brass scales; I simply picked the cheapest off the shelf. "Well, I suppose, sir," I said at last.

"Time to pay, then" he replied. This time he accompanied me in the line, which I appreciated, though I still resented his attitude a minute before.

"Dumbledore!" the cashier exclaimed, flashing a toothy grin. "Don't often see you here. What gives?"

"My young friend," Dumbledore said. "I am escorting her through her first visit to Diagon Alley."

The cashier began to speak, but then closed his mouth. He nodded slowly. "Yes, yes, I understand," he said. "Well, I'll take those for you, miss," he said to me. I lifted the supplies onto the counter. "That'll be nine galleons and four sickles," he said. Carefully, I picked out the coins and handed them over. Dumbledore stood over me, watching the transaction take place with close eyes. After wrapping my purchases in tissue paper, the cashier put everything in a bag, which I took. I bid the man good afternoon and exited.

"Well done," Dumbledore praised. "Congratulations on your first solo venture into the wizarding world."

His tone wasn't sarcastic, so I guessed he meant it. "Thank you," I mumbled. "Where are we going next?"

"Robes, I should think," Dumbledore said. "Though Madam Malkin's may be a bit much. This way." We walked towards a smaller store with fewer people inside. "I apologize that you'll need to buy your uniform second-hand," Dumbledore said, "but it won't be the worst."

No, it wasn't, I had to agree. The woman working was nice and didn't remark upon why I might be there. The robes were all worn down at the hems and sported a few sewn tears and, scarily enough, burn marks along the sleeves, but fit well and felt warm. The woman added another burden for me to carry and we left for my textbooks, which were also to be used, though this I had some idea of what to look for. I was happy to find the books were organized more or less like a normal bookstore might organize them: alphabetical by author. Among the row, I examined each spine and picked the sturdiest; then I flipped through the pages and made sure they were all whole and readable.

Finally I needed my wand. "Ollivanders is the very best," Dumbledore said. "All of Britain's finest wands are his. You shall be very well-equipped."

It was a complete mess inside, for all of its reputation. Dusty and dimly-lit, with shelves so high they disappeared into the darkness above. Piles of wands were here and there. It appeared as though they place hadn't been properly cleaned in years. There was no one else inside but myself, Dumbledore, and I assumed the store-owner.

"Welcome to Ollivanders," a voice said from the gloom. I gave a terrible jump and instinctively backed into the wall. From in between one of the shelves, a man with wispy, light hair emerged. "I am Mr. Ollivander. At your service." He gave a little town, and then returned to gazing at us with huge, lamp-like eyes.

"Eveyln Spencer," I managed. "How do you do?"

"Marvelous, marvelous," Ollivander said. "First wand, I presume?"

I nodded.

"Hold out your wand arm. Your dominant arm, that is." I gave him my right, which he immediately took a tape measure to. "Oh yes, wonderful," he murmured. "Excellent proportions. Yes, you'll do just fine…" Then he snapped some of the tape measure up and walked around to my shoulder and heads. "We make thousands of wands here. All of them a little different, none of them the same. Various woods, and cores. There we are," he said at last, stowing his equipment in his robes. He turned behind him, and I realized, as he had been measuring, boxes had been piling up on the table. He unboxed the top-most wand and handed it to me. "Ten and a quarter. Ash and dragon heartstring. Rather stiff. Go and give it a wave."

My eyes darted to the wand Ollivander proffered and then back up to him. "Ah," he said softly. "There is distrust in you, Evelyn Spencer. I see it." But he still insisted. Reluctantly, I took the wand.

Held breath. I raised my arm and brought it down, once, twice. Nothing happened and Ollivander snatched the wand back. "This one. Twelve inches clean, maple and phoenix feather." I waved it again, with the same results. Again, it was replaced. "Nine and a half, willow. Unicorn hair, quite bendy."

This time, though, Ollivander's lit up a little more. I couldn't understand why; this third want produced nothing, just as the others had. He studied his boxes and picked another one. "Ten inches, dragon heartstring, rowan. Sturdy…oh, we are quite close, quite close," he said after I had waved it and still nothing happened. "Do you feel it? Which next? This one, absolutely lovely. Apple and unicorn hair. Eleven inches, moderately rigid."

I closed my hand around it and immediately felt the tips of my fingers tingle slightly. A flush of heat warmed them. For the first time, I wasn't worried. When I waved the wand, I couldn't believe my eyes. A bouquet of brilliantly-colored flowers burst from the tip, at least a dozen stems. Ollivander exclaimed and clapped, Dumbledore joining in.

"Oh, you've done it! Oh yes, well done indeed. Quite beautiful." His excitement I found to be contagious. I couldn't help but feel a little bashful pride. Ollivander collected the wand and put it back in its box, handing it and the flowers I had produced to me. "Seven galleons precisely…but those flowers will be yours, eh?"

I paid seven galleons, and finally, found myself back in the Muggle world. I felt exhausted and glad to be in familiar territory. "Time for you to get back," Dumbledore said. "Remember, underage magic is excused if you have not yet begun classes at Hogwarts, but wands aren't to played with. Don't fool around with it, especially with Muggle children around, understand?"

"Yes sir," I said.

"Good." Dumbledore smiled. I looked at him squarely for the first time. Dumbledore wasn't so bad, I thought. He was kind enough to bring me to Diagon Alley, and even though he had been aloof at times, I suppose it was for my own good.

I ran up the stairs with my things as fast as I could. I didn't want anyone to see them and ask what they were…especially Tom. I tucked everything under my bed for safekeeping and resolved not to touch them until the day I packed for Hogwarts.

* * *

**A/N: Any/all reviews are much appreciated**.


	6. Part I: Chapter 6 – Departure

**Chapter 6 - Departure**

**...**

August slipped away. The air grew less heavy and more crisp. Clouds descended upon London more often, and we all felt the last dregs of summer pass as we prepared to return back to school.

Or, in my case, go to Hogwarts. Mrs. Cole brought down an immense brown trunk for me to pack my valuables in, its size far too big for what I was bringing. All of the supplies I had bought only about a quarter of the trunk. I didn't know what else to put in. My regular clothes? I had a suspicion that they would be horribly out of place among the robes. I added them just in case (they were no use gathering dust in my closet here), but even then, I had to stuff the corners with crumpled newspapers to make up the extra space, leaving a little indent for all my toiletries.

During my last night, I couldn't sleep. I lay on my side, staring at my packed trunk. This time tomorrow, I'd be in a different bed. Sleeping with different blankets, in a different room. Wool's wasn't exactly Buckingham Palace, but I was used to it here...

I woke up early. Went down and ate a hearty breakfast of toast, eggs, and sausages. I wasn't sure when next I would have the chance to eat. Mrs. Cole came up and gave me a pat on the shoulder. "Are you quite ready? I think we will leave in an hour so you have enough time to reach the platform."

"Oh—" I hadn't thought we would leave so soon, but what could I say? "Yes. I will need some help with my luggage, though.."

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Cole said, her head bobbing. "Martha and I will see to it that a few boys can be spared to carry them down. I will meet you and Tom in the foyer at 9:00, all right?"

I didn't say a word and instead nodded. I looked around the hall. Alice met my eyes, but for once she didn't make a face. She, like all the orphans, were being told that Tom and I would be going to the country for "special treatment", which I suppose was not entirely untrue. But I suspected Alice was pleased to have some leverage over me once again.

* * *

Orphans were very rarely driven anywhere. We were taught how to use the Tube instead, or we walked. But today, with a train to catch and two heavy trunks, driving was the obvious option. Tom and I settled into the rear of the car while Mrs. Cole took the wheel.

London was bleary as usual, but through the rain-streaked windows, I tried to take in as much as possible. Nine months would be a long time. I sneaked a peek over at Tom. He had turned away and was resting on his hand. His face was impassive, but I knew he had to be restless. He had been looking forward to this for weeks.

At last we arrived. Mrs. Cole fetched two carts for our trunks and helped us load them on. Inside the main terminal, we stopped. Groups of people bustled about. "Do you have your tickets?"

I felt inside my pocket and touched mine. "Yes." Tom nodded his affirmation, impatient.

Mrs. Cole smiled. "Well, this is it, then. If anything happens and you miss your train, call back to Wool's, and we'll figure something out. Dumbledore told me when the year ends and what time your train will be back here."

This time it was I who didn't say anything. "Goodbye, then, Evelyn. Goodbye Tom." She placed her hand on my shoulder briefly before removing it and smiling fondly at us. "Have an excellent term. We'll see you in June."

That was it. Our cue had arrived. Tom and I looked at each other and entered the crowd. I couldn't help turn back for a last glimpse of Mrs. Cole. She was still there. She gave me a little smile and wave.

"Come on, Evelyn!" Tom said, annoyed. I forced myself to push the the gaps of travelers until we had overcome them and there was nothing else to see. "It's Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he reminded me.

I remembered it well enough for my own, though. What kind of ludicrous platform number was that? We made it to where Nine and Ten were located, but ours was missing. There weren't even trains stationed where we were. "I don't suppose your expertise tells you where we're meant to be?"

For once, Tom didn't retort. He scanned the vicinity, his eyes flickering with worry. "Well, we can't be the only ones going to Hogwarts," he said finally. "Look for people who with cloaks, wands."

I did as I was told but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe they were wearing Muggle clothes to blend in. Then a family of three clattered noisily past us. I followed them for an instant. Though the girl was wearing a regular skirt and sweater, the parents' billowing robes trailed after them. "Tom!" I hissed, nodding towards them.

They had passed the brick wall that marked Platform Nine. Another brick tower was in between it and the wall for Platform 10. Too late, I realized the girl was walking straight toward the tower, her parents strolling confidently strolling behind. I wanted to shout at them that the daughter was going to crash, but before I could, all three had vanished. I turned to see Tom.

"Where'd they go?"

He shrugged. "Through the wall, it seems." He abandoned his cart and examined the bricks in front of us. "Feels solid, though." He gave it an experimental push. Nothing gave way. "I think we're supposed to walk through it. I bet it acts as a portal or something."

I looked at the wall doubtfully. "Maybe we should ask someone."

"No!" Tom exclaimed suddenly. "We don't need to, all right? It'll just be a waste of time, and he probably won't know anyway. I say we try. You go first."

I surveyed the imposing structure and swallowed. "Why do I have to?"

"How do I know you won't just leave the moment I get through?" Tom said.

I was stung a little by his lack of faith in me, but I was the one who had given him any reason to in the first place. Resigned, I took up my cart and centered it carefully in front of the bricks. They were about four or five meters away. I gave the cart a push. The wheels squeaked and then smoothed out. Tom was already behind me, watching carefully. The cart seemed to be speeding up. I transitioned into a little bit of a skip, and then a jog. I looked up; the wall was less than a footway—

It felt like a very thin, perfectly smooth layer of water had passed over me. The bricks had filtered through my eyes and I found myself staring in amazement at a brilliantly colored train: _Hogwarts Express_. My legs went weak.

"Told you so," Tom's voice said. I couldn't say anything. Tom smirked a little. "Come on. We should get these things on board."

It was like Diagon Alley all over again. People all around, but it was even louder now. Nearly every student had an owl, nestled in cage that was strapped to the top of trunks. The birds hooted constantly, as if greeting each other after a lengthy summer, the same way I saw so many students doing. Many older students carrier long, thin packages wrapped in paper...broomsticks? Students were also already wearing their uniforms, holding their black cloaks close to avoid the hems being caught under the wheels of someone's cart.

"Here—" Tom said. He stepped up onto one of the stairs extending from a door and reached down a hand. "Help me."

With some grappling and struggling, we managed both his and my cases into the corridor of the train. I joined him inside a compartment he had pushed our luggage into. I sat down across from him cautiously. He had taken out his wand and was running his fingers over it. "Reckon we're allowed to do magic here, now that we're on the train?"

"I wouldn't want to try and get kicked out of school before we even get there," I warned.

Tom scowled. "This is going to be boring."

"You can read your textbooks," I suggested.

"I already have," Tom said.

I settled more comfortably into my seat. The platform was clearer now. It seemed mostly full of parents and siblings. A man was coming by, securing all the doors. On the opposite side of the compartment, students were milling about the corridor, some of them racing by. Then I felt a jerk: the station was pulling past, slowly gaining speed.

"Where do you suppose the train comes out from?" I asked.

"Who knows," Tom said.

"And the train, do you think Muggles see it?"

"Probably. It's not any different from a normal train, only that it says Hogwarts. Maybe they make it write something else for Muggles."

Whether the Muggles could see us or not, we could see them. We were rapidly outstripping urban London. The buildings grew shorter, brighter, and the streets became wider. Soon the country was upon us, with lush green hills rolling besides the tracks. The sky darkened steadily as we flew past the farms, until minute specks of light hung down above us. At one point a plump woman with a food cart entered. Tom and I had never seen what she was selling, but it had been a long time since breakfast and both of us were hungry...We had long since finished our snacks and changed into our robes when the train finally began to slow down.

We heard a hiss of steam from outside. Immediately, students were jostling each other about. Tom and I had just putting away our Muggle clothes when we saw the corridors fill, people inching along slowly through the limited space. Tom grabbed the door of the compartment, and we were absorbered into the mass.

A grip of slight panic clutched me then. With everyone in black, it was difficult to keep track of Tom, and the older students towered over us anyway. I found myself jumping to avoid stemming on other peoples' robes, feeling suddenly weighed down myself in wearing what seemed like an inordinate amount of clothing.

At last there was a thinning up ahead. We had managed our way to the exit. I descended the steps into the frigid night air and almost at once heard a voice shouting over the din, "First years here! All first years!"

A man in a brown coat was standing atop some crate, a hoard of students at his feet. He wasn't very pleasant looking, wizened and hunched over a bit.

"First year? Come on now!" he shouted impatiently at me when he caught sight of me hesitating.

I shuffled reluctantly forward to join the group that had clustered around him. I realized with a start that I was laying eyes on my classmates for the first time. I scanned their faces...most of them were bewildered like I was, which comforted me. Others were excited and impatient. I wondered if they came from wizarding families and already knew what was coming. A girl with strawberry-blonde hair looked like it, looking ahead with an expecting shine in her eyes. I envied her confidence; she seemed like she was more ready than any of us. I tried to be surreptitious in my glances, but she finally caught me and smiled a bit. My heart lept and I quickly dropped my gaze, finding myself turning right into Tom.

"Tom!" I cried, relieved to finally have found a familiar face.

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asked. He sounded breathless and his eyes were bright. He wasn't exactly smiling, but he was happier than I had ever seen him.

I didn't answer him, but was saved from doing so by the man shouting again to follow him. I felt a lurch in my stomach as we walked out of the station into a wood. It was a dry night without a cloud in sight, but in the narrow path, surrounded by black trees, chills ran through me.

"Here she comes," the man said. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The students in the back hurried to catch up at his announcement, Tom included. I stayed in pace with him to reach a widening in the path in front of a still lake. I fell into place and stared across the gentle water, my heart racing.

A magnificent castle sat atop a tall mountain, the foundation built into the craggy sides. Towers and towers rose high into the midnight blue sky. It was too dark to really see the detail of the castle, but I could tell that it must be intricately designed. Pricks of light dotted the dark side of the castle, matching the winking silver stars above us. I looked skyward at them, reassured by their presence. The great moon was glowing brightly, casting a sheen on everything.

I hadn't realized we were moving again until I felt Tom move beside me. We were loading into small boats now. I sat down in one and Tom joined me on the opposite side. We waited as everyone clambered into their own boat.

"Tom!" I whispered.

"What?" He was gazing up at the castle again.

"There aren't any oars!"

He looked away, seeing I was right.

"What do-"

"FORWAD—!" the man bellowed, startling us all. Like a motor was propelling us, the boats began to glide forward in that pristine water. No one spoke a word as we approached closer and closer. It took longer than I would have expected to move across the lake; immense as it was, the castle did not seem to be growing bigger. But nonetheless, we ended up on the opposite shore, in a dark tunnel filled with pebbles. The man took the lead once more, leading us upward to a grassy lawn. We were directly next to the castle now. The man kept walking.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated!**


	7. Part I: Chapter 7 – Meeting

**A/N: I did my best with the Sorting Hat song...**

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Meeting**

**...**

We stopped for the last time inside a large chamber. Our group seemed small compared to the cavernous quality. There were two impressive staircases on either side of the room, lit by flares of fire every so often. This struck me as odd. Why didn't just use electric lights? But before I could consider this more, my eye was drawn to a portrait that hung on the wall. It depicted a young woman, dressed in flowy medieval garb, or at least it looked like it. She wasn't frozen in time from when she sat for the painting though, no. As I watched, she batted her eyelashes and tossed her long tresses of hair about, flirting with a knight who was hanging on the opposite wall.

_ It's like going to the pictures_, I thought.

"Thank you, Ogg," came a voice. I tore my gaze away from the paintings. Dumbledore! He looked as he had the last time I saw him, except he wore elegant blue robes now. The man we had been following, Ogg, gave a short bow and exited up one of the staircases.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said to us all, smiling. "My name is Professor Dumbledore and I am deputy headmaster here. Very shortly, you will enter into the Great Hall to be Sorted into the houses that will become your home for the next seven years." He paused here. "In each house you will find excellent companions who are of similar character to yourself. They will be a structure for support these next seven years, especially this one, as it is your first. In time, you will also all become examples for younger students." He stopped speaking once more. His eyes swept over us, resting briefly, I thought, on Tom and me. "But enough talk. Let us begin."

The doors behind him opened up to reveal the grandest room, if it could be called that, that had ever been before me. It was like being inside a great medieval cathedral, with long walls and high ceilings all ornately carved with minute detail, except not even Westminster Abbey could compare. Four long tables sat next to each other in rows, with a high table full of staff facing them in the front of the chamber. Behind that were four colored banners. As Dumbledore led us between the innermost two tables (students turned to stare at us), I realized animals had been weaved onto them. A lion, eagle, badger, and snake.

Finally we stopped. I couldn't see myself, but whispers relayed what was in front: a hat upon a simple wooden stool, on the steps that led to the high table. Dumbledore stood next to it, holding a scroll of parchment that reached his feet. (Again, I thought this was strange. Surely a bound booklet would be easier to handle.) He didn't read from it, though. We looked around with confusion; everyone else seemed to be looking toward the hat, and though I could not see it, I heard it.

_Welcome, welcome to the school_

_Where you shall learn the most_

_Among the most great of fools_

_But before we commence our wonderful meal_

_You may wonder what I am,_

_Uglier than an eel?_

_I am the Sorting Hat, of course,_

_About to choose where you shall be,_

_Shouting loudly until I am hoarse._

_I shall peer into your mind and learn who you are_

_What wishes you hold close_

_And what fears you hold far._

_Gryffindor for those who have few _

_The most courageous of the lot,_

_They will see anything through._

_The wisest fall into Ravenclaw,_

_Where the intelligent dwell._

_Certainly a house worthy of awe._

_Or perhaps good Hufflepuff is your match,_

_Where steady hearts and patience_

_Are never difficult to catch. _

_Last we have Slytherin,_

_The charming, the quick,_

_How they preserve themselves, _

_I know not the trick._

_Four houses into which to reside_

_Which will be yours,_

_I'll decide!_

_Don't be afraid to put me on,_

_For I most of all_

_Do not wish to be wrong. _

The chamber burst into applause. Dumbledore stepped forward.

"When I call your name, come forward to the stool." He cleared his throat. "Ackeray, Matilda!"

A tall girl with braids stepped out of line and sat down. Dumbledore lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head. There was a moment of silence before the Sorting Hat announced,

"_RAVENCLAW!_"

There was a burst of applause as Matilda hurried to the Ravenclaw table, blushing slightly. Next up was "Adler, Samuel":

"_HUFFLEPUFF!" _the Sorting Hat shouted. Another ensuing applause.

The line slowly thinned out. It seemed to be balanced between us; no house dominated. Which would be mine? I was completely apathetic about all of them. All of them seemed decent, but I didn't think I really belonged in any of them either. I curled and uncurled my fingers into fists, attempting to hide the action within my robes. I wished I had something to grip onto. Instead, I let myself gaze around the hall again. There seemed to be no ceiling to the place. Above the floating candlesticks was what seemed like the night sky from outside.

"Riddle, Tom!" Dumbledore's voice brought me back down. Tom's turn! I turned around to look at him. I'm not sure what my face showed him, but he briefly met my eyes before moving forward.

"_SLYTHERIN!"_ the Sorting Hat roared. It was the quickest Sorting yet, less than a second. I watched as Tom slid nonchalantly into a seat at the Slytherin table. Now there was nothing more to wait for except my own name:

"Spencer, Evelyn!"

I took a deep breath and walked forward to the stool. From here, I was able to get a sense of how immense the hall was. My eyes grew lost in the mass of faces all staring at me. I closed them to avoid having to return anyone's gaze and felt the soft lowering of the Sorting Hat onto my head.

"Well let's see," a voice said from within. At once, I froze and my eyes flew open. No one but Dumbledore was up next to me. Where had the voice come from? The Sorting Hat seemed to be speaking to me, but he sounded much more internal...not so much like he was talking but more that I was hearing something in my own head that wasn't my own thoughts. My hands felt the wooden seat. I felt a little comforted by the touch.

The voice came again, this time a chuckle. "A little jumpy, aren't we? Perhaps naturally cautious, eh? Hm..._oh_."

I stopped breathing.

"How interesting," the Sorting Hat murmured. "You definitely have great desire. How badly...?" He fell silent, as if he were thinking. I stiffened. I didn't like this. It felt like he was peeling back parts of my mind, digging into the dark depths that I revealed to no one.

"With that, then, it's obvious," the Sorting Hat said at last. "Yes, it's clear..._SLYTHERIN!_"

There was a what sounded like a thunder clap of applause. Dumbledore whisked the Sorting Hat and joined in. I glanced up at him and he nodded approvingly. My mind wasn't able to register much, except to try to find Tom. We didn't exchange words when I sat next to him, but when I looked forward to watch the remaining of the Sorting, I felt like a weight had been released from inside of me.

The Sorting was much more enjoyable now that I had gone through it. I took special note of the students who were joining Slytherin but paid attention to the others as well. They were to be my classmates, after all. As the last student went to Gryffindor (Ignatius Prewett), there was another round of applause. Dumbledore took his seat as an old man approached the podium.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" he said. "Before we begin our meal, a few announcements..."

"Who's that?" I whispered to Tom. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Armando Dippet," another student answered, sitting across from Tom and I. "Headmaster."

"...Quidditch try-outs are to be held in the coming weeks, for those in their second year or above. See to your respective captains for specific trials for each team."

Dippet then folded his hands and looked solemn. "Some in this hall might be aware that the Muggle world has been in turmoil as of late. I would highly advise limiting correspondence to anyone you might know on the Continent. A Herr Hitler has grown quite the politician and runs a tight ship. The Ministry of Magic believes that he may be working under the authority of a Dark wizard by the name of Grindlewad. Any mail to Germany I'm sure is to be intercepted. For the safety of your privacy and birds, it would be wise to hold off for now your letters there."

I remembered hearing about Hitler at Wool's. It seemed everyday he was on the front of the newspaper. Mrs. Cole always looked bothered when she read about him.

"...In the mean time, we will attempt to pursue our regularly-scheduled academic year. And that of course begins with our meal. Enjoy!"

He sat down and as he did, the golden plates in front of us suddenly were filled with rich, succulent foods of a kinds. Mince pies, roast pork, soups, venison, and more were all along the table. Mouth watering, I helped myself to a full plate. Even a single spoonful of potatoes was finer than I had ever received at Wool's. When we had eaten our fill, desserts replaced the main courses. I was stuffed but managed a slice of pound cake. All around us, people were talking excitedly about the return to school. Even many timid first-years were opening up. Now that I had eaten, though, I just wanted to sleep. Had I really been back at Wool's that same day?

People were moving. A flurry of motion, everyone seemed to be leaving now. Once again, I heard someone calling, "First years, first years!" I looked and saw someone from the Slytherin table. It was a girl with curly hair. "All first years here? Let's go." In a brisk march, she led us out back into the foyer, past the staircases, and into another large atrium.

"I'm Maia Sanders," the girl introduced herself. "Slytherin prefect. There are a couple of us; you'll see them 'round. They've all got a badge on their robes as identifiers. Notice the stairs?" She pointed as an enormous set detached itself from the landing, slowly swiveled, and locked into another across the hall. "Lot of them move around during the day. They've all got patterns that you'll want to learn."

We were walking very fast, while at the same time trying to absorb all the new sights. A pearly, translucent image floated past us, leaving the better part of us speechless. "Maia—is that—" one student stammered.

She turned around carelessly, saw what we were looking at, and then faced front again. "Oh yeah, that's a ghost. Plenty of those about. Don't worry, they're harmless. All the houses have a house ghost that lives near the common rooms. Ours is the Bloody Baron. He looks a fright, but he'll leave you well enough alone.

"Now, this here is the Viaduct Entrance. Leads to the dungeons. All the potions classrooms are down here, and so is the way to our Common Room." Maia walked through an archway and carried on down a long, spiral staircase. It was quite narrow, taking several minutes for the lot of us to make it down. It was noticeably colder here. When Maia counted the last one of us, she said cheerfully, "Not much further!"

I couldn't see how she could be right. At the end of the long corridor, all I could see was a decidedly solid-looking stone wall, illuminated by torches that emitted a greenish fire. "Entrance to the Slytherin Common Room," Maia announced, though. "Requires a password to get in, so you all ready to remember it? Changes every two weeks and is posted on the bulletin board inside. But for now, it's this: _ad honorem_."

The stone wall melted away to reveal a large space within. Long windows paneled the entire room around and stretched to the ceiling, ornately decorated with careful filigree. A huge fire was being kept on the right, and as soon as we walked in the chill from the hall disappeared. In front of the grand hearth were a few leather couches. Directly across from where we stood now were two corridors, on either side of the room. I realized that the door we had just passed through was under a landing. Two staircases on either side led up to it, where a huge portrait of a dark-haired man was hanging. The stairs opened up to a balcony that spanned the entire room, bookshelves all along the walls of the second floor. There were tables, chairs, and couches up there too. I peered around the place. It was like a lens of some kind had been placed over my eyes: everything seemed to be tinged with green.

"Right." Maia clapped her hands once together briskly. "You kids are probably worn out. Girls, your dorms are on the left; boys on the right. Any trouble during the night, girls find me and boys look for one of the prefects in your dorm. They'll introduce themselves when you get in."

I didn't want to separate from Tom, but it looked like it was to be inevitable. "See you in the morning?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said distractedly. He was gazing around the common room, transfixed. I left before I got stranded without the rest of the girls.

Maia had directed us down another hall. The first door we came to was labeled _First Years_, followed by a short list of surnames. I scanned it quickly and found Spencer among the names. With held breath, I opened the door to find four other girls inside already.

The room was circular in shape. Four beds were spaced along the wall. There were windows here too, but it was so dark I couldn't see through them. A singular, small chandelier hung from the ceiling, over a warmer that was not dissimilar to ones I had seen at Wool's.

"Hey! Finally, you're here!" one of them cried. She was very tan, with short but straggly brown hair. "I'm Rachel Braithmore. This here's Emma Ramley—" Rachel pointed at a girl dressed in fine robes and a clear face, "—and Diana Hunter." My eyes fell upon the final person and I realized it was the one from before who had strawberry-blonde hair. She seemed to recognize me too, since she gave me a small smile. "What's your name?"

"Evelyn," I said.

"That's your trunk there, right? You're sleeping there, then."

The bed was wondrously large, a four poster with heavy green velvet curtains. I knelt down and unlocked my case, searching for my pajamas. I could still smell the dryness of the orphanage as I pulled them on. The other girls wanted to talk, though, before going to sleep.

Apparently all of them had known they were magic before getting their letters. Emma in particular came from a long line of witches and wizards, with an old history. Diana and Rachel both had one magic parent and one Muggle parent.

"What about you, Evelyn?" Rachel asked.

"I...I don't know," I admitted. "My parents both died before I knew them. I grew up in an orphanage."

They all gasped. "Oh, how awful," Emma said. "So you didn't know you were a witch at all?"

I shook my head. "Not until Professor Dumbledore told me."

"Do you wish you had known before?" Rachel wondered.

"I would, having to live eleven years without magic," Emma added.

"I didn't care," I said. "I was perfectly happy believing I was normal." I remembered again my now unlikely dreams and couldn't prevent a note of bitterness. I quickly looked away from the others.

"Well, why do you think we're in Slytherin?" Rachel asked. "I'm always good at getting my way, so I think that's why for me."

"My family has mostly been in Slytherin," Emma said. "Although neither of my parents were, actually, but my grandparents and aunt and two cousins were."

"I'm ambitious," Diana said proudly. "I'm going to be an Auror when I grow up."

"What's that?" I asked.

"They're kind of like the police for wizards," Emma explained. "They go after people who practice the Dark Arts and put them in jail."

Dark Arts. That didn't sound nice. "I think I'll go to bed," I said slowly.

"But wait, we don't know why you're here!" Rachel protested.

I paused. From what the Sorting Hat had said, I didn't think any of them matched with me. And as far as I knew, none of my family had a legacy of sorts, like Emma. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know."

* * *

**A/N: Reviews make me happy :)**


	8. Part I: Chapter 8 – Slash to Spark

**Chapter 8 - Slash to Spark**

**...**

I slept soundly. There were no random slamming of doors, or ear-splitting flushing of toilets in the middle of the night. When I opened my eyes, I felt more rested than ever. Then the unfamiliar sight of the dormitory jolted me upright. I blinked a few times and then remembered. I let out a sigh. Today was the first day of classes.

"Breakfast," I muttered then. Tom was waiting for me. Or at least, I hoped he was. Scrambling around, I dressed and headed to the lavatory. Although all the girls shared it, it was luxurious, much more grand than the communal washroom at Wool's. I combed my blonde hair quickly, rushed back to the dorm to throw the brush in my trunk, and went to meet Tom.

The Common Room was much brighter in the daylight. Though I had already seen it last night, when I walked into again, I couldn't help but stare. I had realized that we were actually under the lake at the moment: no sky was visible through the windows, but rather a soft green from the water that was rather soothing. Now that it was day, we could see clearly into the lake, streaks of sunlight sparkling in the current.

"Tom!" He was sitting in one of the sofas by the fire and stood. I wanted to know what he thought of Hogwarts so far, but he seemed impatient. "I'm sorry I made you wait," I began.

"It's nothing," he said abruptly. He began walking and I followed.

"Have you seen the Giant Squid?" Tom wondered suddenly. We were climbing up the spiral staircase now.

"Giant Squid?" I repeated. "No. Did you?"

Tom shook his head. "One of the prefects told us about it. It lives in the lake and likes to swim past the common room." He stopped, seemingly embarrassed. "Which way from here?"

We were in some hall. I turned around to face where we had just come from, reimagining the walk from yesterday. "I think that way," I said.

"I thought it was over there," Tom contradicted.

I looked where he was pointing, through an unfamiliar chamber.

"No..." I said. "Let's go this way." Tom followed me. After a few minutes' worth of walking, I recognized the staircase Maia had pointed out. Tom did too, because I noticed through the corner of my eye him looking at me with a sideways glance.

"It smells good, don't you think?" I said tentatively as we sat down.

Tom helped himself to potatoes and eggs without answering. The Grea Hall was emptier than it had been last night. Many students had already eaten their fill and were probably milling about in the castle right now. I looked towards the High Table. Some of the staff were missing too, but I saw Dumbledore was there, speaking to a middle-aged man.

A clap on my shoulders startled me. A jovial man with a portly walrus face and hair the same color as Diana's was looking down at Tom and me. "Sneaky little buggers, aren't you two? Thought I had met all the new Slytherins already!" Eyes wide, I sought out Tom, but he was as nonplussed as I. "Professor Slughorn," he introduced, "Head of Slytherin House. Eveyln Spencer and Tom Riddle, am I right?"

"Yes sir," I said.

"Good, good," Slughorn chortled. "I have something for the both of you..." He reached into his robes and withdrew two pieces of paper. He handed one to each of us. "Time tables for the year, eh? Keep hold of those, at least until you've memorized them."

I ran down the listed subjects. Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology were all in the morning. I couldn't find a single class that sounded familiar; the only one that came close was History of Magic. "Professor," I said, "are these the only classes we'll have?"

Slughorn looked at me with some surprise. "Are you asking for more?" he laughed. "No, no, that's quite the schedule. You'll have a chance to expand your horizons in your third year."

"But—" I looked down at the schedule again. "What about reading, maths, and science? Don't we need to learn those too?"

"Well, well, I would't think so. You read that timetable just now, didn't you? You know your numbers, I assume, that the star is a sun?" He chortled heartily, but I didn't. He looked back at me with my stony expression and his eyes, if possible, grew even more incredulous. "Good gracious, aren't you precocious. You must come from Muggles, am I wrong?"

I didn't answer. Tom said in my stead, "We're orphans, sir. We were brought up with Muggles, yes, in an orphanage."

The smile on Slughorn's face slowly wilted away into horror. "Oh dear. I hope that wasn't a taboo subject."

"No sir," I said quickly. "Thank you for our schedules."

Slughorn beamed. "Of course, of course. So good to meet you both."

He got to his feet once more and ambled off. Tom and I exchanged glances. "Let me see yours," he said, holding his hand out. I gave him my schedule to compare. "We're in all the same classes," he said.

Inside, I was thrilled about this, but Tom didn't appear as pleased. "Are you all right with that?" I asked.

He looked up. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"The first thing you must know about the wizarding world is that it is not full of angels. Magic is, in itself, a good and beneficial skill. But there are plenty out there would would subvert it for malicious purposes."

Professor Merrythought was strolling back and forth in front of her desk. She had reddish, flyaway hair that seemed to be losing its color. Her figure was somewhat spindly as well. Starting out the class after attendance, she was giving a lecture on the concepts.

"Obviously, the best thing would to not associate with those people. Use common sense to stay safe, et cetera. But there are times when this eludes us and we find ourselves in danger, either from another person or a creature. Well, the old saying 'strength in numbers' applies in the wizarding world as it does in any other." Professor Merrythought picked up her wand. "Red sparks are universally used as distress signals. As they will form the most basic of your defensive spells, we will practice these first." She flicked her wand and a flurry of twinkling red light burst out from the tip, shooting upwards towards the ceiling, where they hovered for a few seconds and then died away. "Repeat after me, first. Without wands, please..._Periculum!_"

"_Periculum_," we chanted.

"Very good. Now we will practice wand movement." Professor Merrythought picked up a piece of chalk and drew on the blackboard a shape that looked like a check mark that was mirrored and lying on its side. "Like this," she said. "With many spells, it important to be quite firm with your movements. A smooth pull across and a quick, short slash downward."

Everyone began picked up their wands and began waving it around. Professor Merrythought walked among us, correcting some and approving others. I held my own wand a little apprehensively. What if I waved it and something else happened? No...if I didn't say anything, nothing would—

A flash of red bolted past me. I jumped and pressed myself into my seat, to find Tom with his wand raised. More than a few sparks had been emitted, though. What seemed like a small array of fireworks was now dancing above us all, a deep, vibrant vermillion color. As they twinkled out, Tom blinked once. Then his face fell. Professor Merrythought was making a beeline towards our desk.

"I didn't say anything, Professor, I swear," Tom said. He looked at me.

"He didn't," I agreed.

Professor Merrythought checked her roster. "Riddle, is it?" Tom nodded. "Non-verbal spells shouldn't be of anyone's capacity until at least thirteen. Did someone teach you before now?"

"No one has ever taught me magic before." He gave her a winning smile. "Perhaps it was a fluke, Professor."

Professor Merrythought examined him, then nodded once slowly. "Very well, Riddle. Do take care."

"Yes, Professor."

Professor Merrythought turned away and clapped her hands. "Well, never mind, students! Keep practicing, hm? Let's go..." She walked away from our table and everyone reluctantly picked up their wands again.

"How did you do that?" I whispered.

Tom shrugged. "I don't know. I said the words in my head, just to practice and the sparks came out." He looked happy though, not at all embarrassed. Then he surveyed me. "Well, come on then, Evelyn. You do it."

I was jolted through. "Me?" I glanced at my wand once, which I had discarded. "No, no, I think I can do it."

Tom's brow furrowed. "Nothing is going to happen," he said, guessing my worries.

"It did with you!" I pointed out.

"We're different," Tom said matter-of-factly. When I still hesitated, he said lowly, "You can't avoid magic now, you know."

"I know!" I bristled. "I just want to know what I'm doing." I looked at the blackboard and slowly waved my wand.

"More quickly. Like this," he said, showing me. He nodded as I copied his movements. "Better."

"Attention!" Professor Merrythought was back at the front. "Now we'll combine the motion with the words. I don't want to see anyone pointing their wand at anyone else, all right? Have one person from each pair take turns."

"Guess that means you," Tom said. "I already did it."

I licked my lips. He was right. I picked up my wand and took a deep breath. "_P-periculum!_"

Far from the impressive show that Tom had exhibited, a my result was more like a sparkler. I saw briefly a sputtering of red light that died away a few seconds later. Still, the sight was so shocking that I nearly dropped my wand. It was unnerving, realizing what I had done, no matter how feeble it was.

"Act with conviction and your wand will follow!" Professor Merrythought was calling. Tom had taken up his wand down and waved it:

"_Periculum!_" The second display was no less brilliant than the first.

Tom clearly had no misgivings, I thought. It must have been nice to enjoy the class. We spent the rest of the period practicing red sparks until the bell rang. By the end, I was able to produce a modest array of them that reached the ceiling. Our homework was to read the first section of the first chapter in our textbook and come back ready to learn green sparks the next day.

Next was Transfiguration. Dumbledore taught this class, the schedule said. I felt encouraged by this fact. Tom and I took up seats in the front of the room.

"Welcome to Transfiguration," Dumbledore said after attendance. "It is one of the most complex branches of magic that you will learn at Hogwarts, but I have full confidence that each and every one of you will find success in this class." He looked down his long crooked nose at me. "If you would all open your books to page three," Dumbledore requested. "You will see a few symbols..."

There were symbols, all right. The table was captioned to be the alphabet, but they certainly didn't look like any letter I knew. Dumbledore was speaking, but I couldn't concentrate. I wrote down everything Dumbledore did on the board, until he said, "Now we will try some practical activities..." He walked among the aisles, placing a single match on our desks. I read what I had copied and looked once more at the match. I didn't see how they were connected at all.

Our task was to turn the match into a needle. Dumbledore showed us twice and then set us out on our own. I kept tapping at my match with no luck. The rest of the class also struggled, even Tom. I sat back, frustrated. I wasn't any good at magic, so why should I be here? I should have been back at Wool's-

"Evelyn, look!" Across the aisle, Diana jabbed me. Tom picked a long needle that was sitting where match had been.

"Well done, Tom," Dumbledore said, nodding his approval. A murmur swept through the room that did not seem to let up for the rest of the day. In every class, Tom grasped the concept first, even before all the students who had known they were magic since birth. By dinner, a small number of boys had began to cluster around him, shutting me out of a place. I resolved to eat dinner with Diana instead, who I had begun to sit next to in class.

"That Tom Riddle is pretty good, isn't he?" Diana said after a gulp of soup.

"I guess he is," I said.

"I didn't think I did too bad myself, personally," Diana said. "Whew! What a day, though!"

"Have you seen all the homework we have? And it's only the first day!"

Diana might have been amused, but I wasn't. It was only the first day and I already wasn't enjoying myself. It was easy to say I had time to learn, that it was only the first day of my first year, but truth be told I couldn't have cared less about any of this. The fact that I had to feel like I did was even worse.


	9. Part I: Chapter 9 – Into the Unknown

**Chapter 9 - Into the Unknown**

**...**

* * *

Saturday seemed like it took a century to arrive. All week, we were bombarded with new spells, wand movements, and creatures. I couldn't believe it was only our first week. By Wednesday, we had perfected red and green sparks and by Thursday, everyone had managed to turn their match into a needle, or at least half-managed. I was surprised to count myself among the completely successful batch.

We learned other things, though. Thursday mornings were horrid from having Astronomy at midnight the day before. Potions was the easiest class for me, since it was the closest subject to what I had imagined magic to be. It was similar to cooking as well, except the ingredients were so foreign. Tom thought it was the most boring of course, but that didn't stop Professor Slughorn from being absolutely enamored with him. All the teachers were, in fact. I thought it was strange. I couldn't recall Tom being so loved by our Muggle teachers. I think it was the exact opposite, actually: they all loathed having him in class, for whatever reason. But Tom had never excelled in English and history, while he did in everything he tried at Hogwarts.

When Friday night arrived, I was too tired but to fall into bed and wait for tomorrow. The others chatted excitedly, but the lull of the lake water drowned them out. All were gone but Diana when I woke up.

"Finally up!" Diana cried. "Come on, let's eat."

I brushed a strand of blonde hair out of my eyes to squint at her, still slightly disoriented. "Hm...? Oh, Diana—you didn't have to wait."

"I was thinking we could have breakfast today."

I was caught off guard. I had been eating with Tom almost exclusively.

"Well, I thought—"

"I think Tom already left," Diana said. "I heard him in the Common Room a while ago."

"Oh." I tried not to be hurt. "Okay, then." I dressed as quickly as possible (it still felt odd to undress in front of my dorm mates) into a dress from Wool's. It was nice to be back in my old clothes again.

I saw Tom sitting at the Slytherin table as we passed by him to find empty seats. He was surrounded by a gaggle of boys. I waved at him. He returned the gesture.

"Are you really close to him?" Diana asked when we sat.

I almost laughed at the question. "No, no."

"Only because you seemed all disappointed."

"Well—" I put my fork down a glanced down the table to where Tom was. "When we were at our orphanage, we would sometimes talk. And when I learned I was coming here was the only one who I knew and I was the only one he knew. So we just stuck together." He caught me looking at him and met my eyes.

Diana noticed and grinned. "Must be nice to be friends with him anyway. He's so good at everything."

I looked back at her. "I know. Complete opposite of me, right?"

"I've seen far worse," Diana said. "You just need confidence. And maybe relax," she added as an afterthought. "I was going to walk around and explore today. Do you want to come with me?"

I thought for barely a second before taking her up on her offer. Briefly, a spell of disquiet flashed through me when I remembered Tom would have to learn how to get around the castle himself, but on a second glimpse of him, surrounded by other students, I decided he would be all right. Besides, I could always tell him what I saw later. And I doubted Diana and I could cover every centimeter of Hogwarts there was to cover.

There was a lot of it. It took the morning alone to figure out the mechanisms of all the staircases, Diana taking a particularly scary fall when she forgot to jump over the false step we discovered, and I had to hoist her out to safety. After that we went up to the Owlery, though our visit there was quick: it smelled of droppings. But I enjoyed looking at the birds, with their ever-quirking heads and bright, clever eyes. Then we walked along the lake. I hadn't seen it above the surface since our first night. In the sunlight crystals seemed to dance along the water, droplets spraying us when the Giant Squid raised a tentacle at us. We waved back. The Giant Squid was all right. A few nights ago we found it suctioned along the dorm windows and were given a fright, but it proved to be an amiable creature, often times swimming by the common room as well to give us shows.

Diana and I took a seat under a great willow tree. It was late afternoon, and I was feeling drained. I leaned back on the trunk while Diana spread herself out on the grass. She sighed happily. "It's great, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed. Hogwarts was certainly amazing. Large and unexpected. Much different from Wool's, where everything was cramped and scheduled.

"It's just weird finally being here, you know? Not even my dad can come, and he's older than I am! Ha! Mum always told me stories about when she was here. I've been looking forward to turning eleven all my life."

"Mm." I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Oh..." Diana rolled over onto her stomach and looked at me. Embarrassment painted her face and she rubbed her neck. "I guess I shouldn't talk about parents?"

I shrugged. "It's okay. I don't mind."

Diana kept her eyes on me as she pulled out tufts of grass. Finally she stood and joined me against the tree. She tipped her head forward to look at me sideways. "Do you miss being—at the orphanage?"

"No," I said after a moment. "Not really. It wasn't a nice place to live."

Diana sat back and begin to shred the grass in her hands. "Well, I guess there must be something else that bothers you, but I won't ask."

A warm breeze ruffled the leaves of the willow. I swallowed and suddenly a swell of emotion rose up. Hogwarts was incredible. The best school in Britain for magic. And all I could think about was wanting to leave. I felt like such a spoiled child. Ungrateful and petulant. Not to mention Diana had been trying so hard all day to cheer me up and all I could offer back were a few lukewarm smiles. I hadn't yet met anyone my age who was so open and willing to befriend me.

"You okay?" Diana asked suddenly, frowning.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Only it's hard for me to be happy about this. I—I don't care about learning all this. I just want to have a family. And n-now I won't ever have the chance because I'm h-here." I wiped my face roughly of a few tears. "Probably sounds like I'm a real brat, right?"

"I don't think you are," Diana said. We sat in silence for a while until Diana reached into her pocket and pulled out a half-eaten chocolate frog. "Here, have this." Without waiting for a response, she took my hand and put the piece of chocolate into it. "You got to make the best things when you're down, don't you? Well, you've got Tom, you've got me, and now you have some sweets." She smiled at me.

* * *

"Three chapters to read!" Diana grumbled a few weeks later as she, Tom, and I left Herbology. "Don't teachers realize we have other classes?" We made the trek up from the greenhouses as she spoke to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I hope Professor Merrythought doesn't give us any..."

Next to me, Tom came up short. "I forgot to get the moly for her," he muttered. He had been moodily silent for most of our way back up, deep in thought. "That's what it was!"

"What?" I asked, confused. "What moly?"

"Professor Merrythought asked me to bring some moly for her to use in class. He shrugged off his bag. "Tell her I'll be late, will you?" he asked.

I took shouldered his bag and sighed. "All right, but hurry up!"

Tom gave me a quick grin and then turned to sprint down the hill. Diana clicked her tongue. "That Tom. Like he needs to be excused for being late; all the teachers love him."

"Well he's very polite," I began. But she was right, I mused as we approached the Defense Against the Dark Arts class room. Tom never seemed to have to justify anything to anyone. Not that he had to. He was perfect. Diana and I slipped into our regular seats as the bell sounded.

Professor Merrythought no longer took attendance aloud, now that she knew our faces. We murmured among ourselves as she checked off names in her book. She paused and glanced towards Tom's empty seat. "Has anyone seen Riddle?"

He's here," I said quickly. "I think he forgot something—"

"Professor, I have it!" Tom exclaimed, bursting through the door, panting. In his arms was a large plant pot, white flowers sprouting out of the dirt. "The moly you asked for."

"Ah, thank you, Riddle. Well, have a seat before I mark you absent."

Tom nodded, still trying to catch his breath. He put the pot on Professor Merrythought's desk and slid into my bench. Under the table, I silently put his bag on his lap.

"The last several days, we have been working on practical defensive spells," Professor Merrythought announced after closing her ledger with a snap. "But suppose that you have been disabled in some sort and are wandless. Now we will cover options if you find yourself in some situation. Moly." She cut a sprig from the pot and held it for us to see. "A relatively rare plant, but useful it you can get your hands on it." Professor Merrythought tapped the cutting and it instantly multiplied, one sample lying on each of our desks. "Take a minute and examine it."

I picked up the flower and turned it around. It appeared like any other flower I had ever seen, although the petals were very wide, and almost a little leathery to the touch. "Have you felt it?" I asked Tom with some surprise. He nodded. "It's weird."

"Miss Spencer!" I jumped and looked up.

"Yes, Professor?"

"What can you tell me about moly?"

"Um, the petals are—very thick—"

"Mm," Professor Merrythought agreed. "Why do you suppose this is?"

I sat quietly without an answer.

"All right, let's think about this," Professor Merrythought said. "What do you think you're suppose to do with it?"

"...Eat it?" I said hesitantly.

"Very good. When you eat it, will those petals be very nice to chew on?"

"No."

"Why? What could it be about them that makes them so difficult?"

My eyes darted back to the flower, lying still on the desk. I wanted to reach out and feel those petals again, but I had taken to holding onto the bench I was sitting on and couldn't wrench my fingers loose. Next to me, I could hear Tom playing with his wand almost silently. It was tapping on his lap ever so softly. I let myself be distracted, let myself be drawn away from the spotlight.

"Magic. Magical healing," I muttered. The tapping stopped abruptly.

"What was that?" Professor Merrythought asked.

I looked up. "The petals, they have—" I stopped and turned to Tom. He gazed back steadily. "They have healing magic in them. You eat them and are protected from Dark magic."

"Excellent!" Professor Merrythought said. "Ten points to Slytherin. Now if we take what Miss Spencer to be true, let's delve deeper..."

* * *

"Thank you for helping me," I said to Tom later as we sat down for dinner.

"What are you talking about?" he said, taking a roll for himself.

"Well, maybe you didn't realize it, but the way you were playing with your wand, it helped me," I explained.

"Oh. You're welcome, then, I guess. But I don't think I didn't do anything. You were able to figure it out yourself."

I felt a flush of pride. I suppose I had.

"Listen, I've been thinking," Tom said quietly. "We should find out who our parents were. I've talked with some teachers. They say there're records in the library that we could look at. I was going to look tonight, with the weekend coming up and all."

"You want me to come with you?" I asked.

"Well don't you want to find out?" Tom said.

I wasn't really. It didn't matter to me whether my parents had gone to Hogwarts or not. But it wouldn't hurt to know.

"All right," I agreed.


	10. Part I: Chapter 10 – Perseus

**Chapter 10 - Perseus**

**...**

* * *

The records were a library in themselves. Shelves upon shelves, containing thousands upon thousands of names.

I looked at Tom. "When do you suppose they would have been here?"

"I have no idea. If we were born in 1927..."

"I think you would have to be at least twenty-five," I guessed. "That would make them thirty-six today."

"And eleven in 1914," Tom concluded. "We can start there and add or subtract years if we can't find them." He gazed up at the shelves. "Where are we right now?"

With some effort, I pulled a volume out from where it was tightly wedged between its neighbors. It was bound with leather and smelled a bit like the files Mrs. Cole kept: musty and aged. I flipped open to the front page and read: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Registry. Year 1637.' Well that's not it. What do you have?"

Tom had disappeared to the other side of the shelf. "I have 1693 here. The most recent would be over there." We passed several more shelves quietly. I silently mused about how all these records must be being kept track of. Hundreds of years of names, all preserved for eternity. My name would be in one of them.

"This is one," Tom said. He laid out a book on a table and brought a candle closer. As he leafed through the pages, I rapidly read the headings. There were chapters for each, major events ("Resucitation required for M. Stern on 19 October. Quidditch practice and matches strictly prohibited while equipment under inspection."), and new students.

"Do you want to look first?" Tom offered. He edged the book toward me. These pages were not as yellowed as the other ones, but still felt crisp under my touch. The section for S surnames was not very long, and it only took one scan to confirm that there was no Spencer on the list. I didn't know my mother's maiden name, so I couldn't check that either.

"Nothing here," I said nonchalantly.

"Look in all the other years," Tom said. "Maybe they were older than we thought."

I did so, but there was no Spencer in the second years, nor the third years, nor any of the other years. I shook my head and pushed back to him.

"Find another," Tom said. "We can look through some more."

"Tom-" I began awkwardly.

"What?" He was rifling through the book frantically. I didn't want to voice my misgivings about this operation, but it didn't seem practical to me to spend all night here. We had nothing to lead us, and it wasn't likely we would find something that would. But Tom seemed so determined.

"Nothing."

* * *

I woke up lying against the same table I had been at last night. I raised my head slowly and took in my surroundings. Columns of white light highlighted the sides of the towering shelves that seemed to rise into the ceiling. Across from me, Tom was still asleep. Scattered on the table were more books.

I rose and stretched, stiff from my night in the chair. Crossing to Tom, I gave him a cautious tap on the shoulder. "Tom?"

He shook awake at once. "What..."

"We're in the library," I whispered, feeling the need to speak softly.

Tom stared forward for a long time and then stood up. "That's right," he muttered. He nodded towards one of the books on the table. It was open. "That one's for you. I found it after you fell asleep."

I approached it slowly. Written in neat script about half way down the left page was Perseus Spencer.

A strange ripple ran through me, staring at the name. "How do we know this was my father?"

Tom shrugged. "It's the only Spencer."

I looked back. Perseus...I had never known my father's name before now. It wasn't any name I had heard before. I wondered if it meant anything. For the first time, I felt myself missing him.

"What about you, Tom? Did you find your father too?"

Tom shook his head shortly. "No. He's not in there."

My face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Tom shrugged again. "Doesn't matter. I can look other places." But he wasn't meeting my gaze. His face was paler than normal. Silence settled between us.

"Why don't you go down," Tom suggested quietly. "People are probably looking for you-"

"Then you should come too," I said. "They'll want to know where you are-"

"No. Looking for you," Tom repeated. "No one's going to come after me. I can search by myself now."

I didn't want to leave when he was upset, but I knew he must have wanted to be alone. No doubt my presence would make him more bitter, when it was my father he had found, and I hadn't been terribly invested in knowing him in the first place like Tom was with his own parents.

"Okay. Tell me if you find anything, all right?" I asked.

"Sure. See you later." Without another word, Tom turned and began to walk further into the library. I wasn't sure what more he could find since we had already exhausted all of the avenues here, but I didn't say anything and instead left.

The halls outside the library were still. I thought it was probably breakfast time, and I was suddenly reminded of my empty stomach. I made my way to the Great Hall as quickly as I could and found that it was earlier than I thought: the tables were just beginning to fill. Without bothering to seek out a friend, I sat down randomly and helped myself to some kippers.

"_Evelyn!_" Someone grabbed me by the shoulders.

I yelped and dropped my fork, twisting and finding myself grabbing Diana by her cloak. "Diana! Don't do that; you scared me!"

"Like you're one to talk!" Diana reprimanded. "Where were you last night? We couldn't find you at all after Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"I was-I was in the library. Me and Tom were looking for something that might tell us about our parents," I explained.

"And...?"

"Perseus Spencer," I said. "My dad. Kind of a weird name, don't you think? I've never heard of it."

"Maybe for Muggles," Diana said casually. "Not as much for us. Don't you remember that kid in our house, Abraxas?"

"Oh yeah. I had forgotten about him," I murmured.

"So where's Tom?" Diana wondered.

"Er...still looking around," I said. "He wasn't as lucky." I glanced at Diana tentatively. "I think he's upset. He'd never say, but I think he's annoyed that I learned more than he did."

"But touchy, isn't he?" Diana remarked.

"He's not," I defended, suddenly irritated. "We didn't really know anything at the orphanage. This our only chance."

Diana pursed her lips. "You're right; sorry about that."

"Doesn't matter," I mumbled. "Just don't say it around Tom."

* * *

I was lying on a sofa by the fire later that day. Night had long since fallen, and the lake water was now black. It hasn't taken me long to love the Slytherin common room, especially at night. The waves lapped up against the windows rhythmically, a soothing sound to fall sleep to. I closed my eyes, the heat from the fire leaving a breath of warmth with each crackle. Voices of students working sounded out.

"Hey." I stirred to see Tom's pale face.

"Hey..." I sat up. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Tom said, "but I'm not giving up. Do you suppose there might be somewhere else to look? I was in the trophy room today, thought maybe he might have won an award of some kind..."

"Have you talked to the teachers?" I said. "Maybe Dumbledore-?"

"He doesn't know anything," Tom cut me off bitterly. "I asked when we met. Professor Merrythought, think she'd know something? She's getting up there. And she likes me too. I couldn't stand the way she'd look at me, though, if she didn't after all."

I knew the look Tom was talking about. Barely concealed pity, a mixture of sympathy and condescension. It was a look we had all seen too many times, one I had seen a few times already here at Hogwarts. I wasn't as sensitive about it, but I knew Tom bristled whenever anyone shot him this glance, especially if it was from someone he knew.

"The ghosts," I said said slowly. "They'll have to be able to help you out; they're all hundreds of years old! And they hardly talk to us. They barely know you, even the Bloody Baron."

"I'm not asking him," Tom said. "I've never seen him as much open his mouth. If I can get him to talk, he wouldn't say anything."

"Another ghost," I pressed. "The one from Ravenclaw is smart, I'd guess."

"Yeah..." Tom agreed. "Where is she normally?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "You can ask one of the Ravenclaw kids."

"All right. I'll do that," Tom said. "I'll-I'll talk to her alone. But thanks for the idea."

"Sure," I said.

The Gray Lady. I thought she was very beautiful, but young too-she had died before she was supposed to. She was a solemn woman, maybe because of this, but I hoped she would still be willing to help Tom.

If she had, I never heard about it. Tom stopped coming to me, so assumed that he was unlucky once more. It was nearly a month before Tom gave up. Day after day, he would be brainstorming new possible sources, only for them to yield nothing. He was skilled at disguising his disappointment. If anything, it seemed to fuel his aptitude for magic. I was happy he had this solace at least.

* * *

**A/N: I've noticed a few more people discovering this story lately, so your reviews would be much appreciated!**


	11. Part I: Chapter 11 – Christmas

**Chapter 11 - Christmas**

**...**

Christmas was soon. We were a week into December and everyone was looking forward to the much-needed holiday. Students were told to sign up as to whether they would be going home or staying at Hogwarts. I chose the latter with little debate and was cheered at the prospect of spending it with Diana, who had written to her parents she wanted to experience the school's festivities.

On the last day of classes, an enormous owl carrying a package landed almost in my cereal at breakfast. Others looked at me with curiosity, but I knew exactly what it was. With some of my money, I had ordered presents for my dorm mates and Tom from a catalog that was in the library. I took the parcel up to the dorm while everyone ate and labeled the smaller ones inside, then dropped them off in a large chute off the Great Hall, where we had been instructed to drop of presents for fellow students. I closed the hatch with some satisfaction, never having been able to give presents on Christmas.

When the final bell rang, I made my way back to the common room, excited to collapse onto my bed, but the corridors were even more crowded the usual because students were tracking luggage along with them. Those who were going home for the holidays were to be in the Great Hall, where Ogg would be escorting them to the train station.

Diana had made it back before I had, and from the way she was sprawled on the sofa, had been there for a while. "How did you get back soon?"

She smirked. "Maia was in the next classroom over, knows a secret passageway."

"Prefects privilege," Maia called from above.

Diana swung her legs around and leaned back some more. "It'll be better tonight," she said, "after everyone has left."

She was right about that. There were other perks of staying, though. I got my hands on a piece of treacle tart that I had been coveting since my first time tasting it, and without the knowledge there was a line of girls waiting to shower after me, I was able to spend some time enjoying the steaming hot water.

On the first proper day of break, we woke up to a dusting of snow on the grounds. The windows in the Great Hall had been iced over in delicate, curling patterns like Jack Frost had visited. Beautiful as they were, though, they were nothing compared to the Christmas decorations that must have been put up the night before. Twelve enormous Christmas trees were lined along the front wall, adorned with gold ornaments and tinsel. Garlands and bunches of holly were strung up above the stairwells and around windowsills. Clumps of mistletoe hung from the doorways, the older students innocently hurrying towards them when they noticed the person they were sweet on approaching. As we returned to the common room, I heard the suits of armor harmonizing carols down one of the passageways. Even inside the dorms, there was more a more festive cheer. There was a tree there too, and stockings hung off of the warmers in our rooms. It was a delightfully homey touch.

I caught Tom sitting alone on Christmas Eve by the fire. Diana and I had just entered the common room, having had spent the day before Christmas throwing snowballs at each other with some Ravenclaw girls. Thoroughly worn out, I was looking forward to a hot shower and dinner, but I had to tell Diana to go on without me. I plopped down next to him.

"Have you just been holed up in here all day? The snow is wonderful."

Tom shrugged. "Not the whole day. I was in the Great Hall at breakfast."

I looked around. "Did all your friends go home?"

Tom's head jerked a little like he wanted to protest. "Oh, yes, they went home," he confirmed, in a would-be-casual voice.

"Do you want to eat with us at dinner?" I asked.

"Us," Tom repeated dully.

"Me and Diana."

"She doesn't like me, I feel."

"What?" I exclaimed. "She just doesn't know that well. You should eat with us. Diana can't complain; I've spent everyday with her. You're my friend too."

Again, Tom reacted bizarrely and didn't say anything: a frown, and then a satisfied kind of smirk graced his features. He watched the flames leaping behind the grate. I studied his face. "Tom?"

"What?" He finally turned to look at me, but when I didn't say anything, he just went back to the fire. It was very quiet; only the sounds of the snapping flames could be heard. I sat still. I knew Tom well enough know to tell that he was working himself up to say something.

"You're my friend, Evelyn," he agreed finally. "Not them."

"Them...you mean the other boys?"

He nodded.

"What do you mean?" I said hesitantly.

"They think they understand me," Tom muttered. "They think they know me, even though I've told them nothing." I was taken aback by the fierceness of his voice. Maybe it showed on my face, because when he looked at me, he chuckled a little and then turned to stare back in the licking fire, its light playing on his pale visage. "Don't worry. You're not one of them."

I said nothing and only stared at him. There was always this intensity radiating off of him, like a bomb of pent up emotions that was ready to blow any any moment. Normally Tom seemed so apathetic, but then I would feel such passion in-in everything about him, his words, his voice, his face. It was startling.

I stood. "So—dinner?"

"Yeah, I'll come," Tom said at last.

"Great," I breathed. "Meet us here."

I smiled at Tom as I left, but in truth, I was thrown by what he had said. There was always a sizable gaggle of boys clustered around Tom, but I had thought even if Tom didn't like them, he wouldn't resent to as he did. I understood him, though. As far as I could tell, those boys were impressed with his abilities and hoped to profit off of him in some way. Teacher favor or lessons. (I realized that none of them had achieve either—but I had.) Tom wouldn't have sought them out for himself. And having people fawn over him without really knowing him must have been unbearable.

* * *

Christmas morning, I woke up from a pillow being thrown against my head. I cracked my eyes open and saw Diana standing on her bed, tossing another pillow up and down.

"I've waited as long as I can," she announced, playfully stern, "but I'm at the end of my rope."

I pushed myself up and threw my messy hair out of my face. "Happy Christmas yourself, Diana."

She grinned at me and sat down on her blankets, proceeding to grab her first package. There were a few parcels at the foot of my bed, neatly bundled in colorful paper. They were almost too pretty to rip, but the desire to see what was hidden inside was greater. I took up the first one and tore the wrapping off. It was a framed portrait, of a woman who sat in a forested grove, looking very familiar.

"Is this...?"

"The girl from the portrait by the Great Hall?" Diana finished. "Yup. Different painting though; she probably sat for a couple. She looks a bit like you, I thought."

I glanced at the young woman's face, heart-shaped and framed prettily by her golden locks. "Maybe," I said.

"I think she does," Diana asserted.

"Does she do anything?" I noticed a name engraved at the bottom of the frame. _Eleanor Wildsmith._

_"_Of course I do!" came a voice. Eleanor had stood and had her hands on her hips. "Whenever you have a spot of trouble, let it all out to me!"

"Mm. If you ever just want to talk, you can with Eleanor. My aunt has one similar; it comes in handy on those summer visits, if you know what I mean."

"Oh. So you're like a pocket friend," I said. "How wonderful! I'll be spending a lot of time with you this summer." Eleanor flashed me a dazzling smile.

The rest of my presents were decidedly less talkative. A collection of sweets from Emma and three pieces of parchment that would auto-complete any homework assignment when I wrote the assignment at the top from Rachel. Three presents were the extent of my gifts, but it was more than I had ever received at Wool's.

Diana and I went to the common room together, Diana wearing the red headband I had given to her. Tom was there, and when he saw me, he stood up rather awkwardly.

"Happy Christmas, Tom," I greeted him.

"You got me a present," he mumbled.

"Yes! Did you like it?" I wondered. It had been a book about the founding of Hogwarts. Probably not the most traditional gift and more likely to be found on a list of texts needed for school, but I thought Tom would enjoy it.

"I didn't get you anything," he said.

"Well that's all right!" I said. "We never have before." I had realized in the dorm a gift from Tom was absent, and though I was a little disappointed, I didn't hold it against him. It was true. Orphans had never exchanged gifts at Wool's, so he probably just hadn't thought about it. I wasn't sure how much money he had anyway.

He studied me for a long time, as if to catch me in lie. "I should have," he said. "You've been—" He looked away, almost a little angrily.

Diana raised her eyebrows. I elbowed her discreetly, saying at the same time, "It's really all right, Tom. I really don't mind. Are you coming?"

"I already ate," Tom said.

"Well, okay. See you later." I gave him a little wave and left to the Great Hall.

It was as festive as it had been the night before, though perhaps more subdued, Christmas anticipation having been spent. To my surprise, I noticed some Gryffindor students at our table this morning, chatting with Slytherins and showing off some of their presents. I looked around: inter-house mingling was occurring everywhere. I guessed the normal rules were relaxed in the holiday spirit. Joining in with the others, Diana and I moved to the Ravenclaw to join Matilda Ackeray.

The rest of the day was slow and lazy. With no classes scheduled, and moods especially high, I decided to try my hand (legs?) at ice-skating on the frozen lake after lunch. Wrapped in coats and scarves, Diana and I dug through the deep snow to reach the lake. We knew it wasn't solid all the way through because we could see from the common room, but the older students estimated at least a few meters below the surface had hardened enough to support our weight.

I had never ice-skated before, so Diana took the first steps. She glided around easily before she held her hand out. "Come on!"

Tentatively, I inched onto the ice. Almost at once, Diana took off, pulling me with her. "Diana—wait—!"

She just laughed. Not wishing to be left in the middle of the lake by myself, I forced myself to make a few strides in my skates, enough to keep up with Diana.

"See, you're getting the hang of it!" Diana said. Slowly, she let go of my hand. "Try coming over to where I am." She had let herself drift away from me.

It was more difficult to get started on my own, but once I felt a good push, it was easier. As I neared Diana, she kept skating further away, until I realized I wasn't nervous about falling anymore—

A splatter of snow fell off in pieces from my coat. Diana waved at me, her glove twinkling with evidence. I grinned and skated over the to shore, scooping up my own ball. "You're going to pay for that!" Diana made a dash, but I lobbed the ball high, landing it on her head and showering her in flakes. By the time we ended, a good portion of the bank had been scraped bare. We trooped back into the castle, tired and ready for a succulent Christmas dinner.

Most of the students still at school had arrived early, presumably to get the best pickings. Tom was among them, sitting solo. A flush of pleasure warmed me when I saw that my gift to him was propped up in front of him. I slid into the seat next to him, excusing myself for a moment from Diana.

"Enjoying it?" I asked innocently, after a moment.

"It's fascinating," Tom said, his eyes not leaving the pages. I glanced at the passage. It was not one very far into the book, opened to a chapter on Godric Gryffindor.

"I'm glad you like it," I said, helping myself to a slice of roast. "Maybe you can take over for Binns when we graduate."

"Maybe I will," Tom said nonchalantly. "But I doubt he'll ever retire. It's like his internal clock is set to infinity. He seems to never run out of juice, you know what I mean? Hello, Diana." He finally shut the book.

I too had seen the flurry of strawberry-blonde across the table and smiled at my friend. "You can't teach here, Tom," Diana said. "You're too smart; it'd be a waste just to be a professor. Headmaster, more like."

Tom made an amused face. "I'm surprised you have so much faith in me, Diana."

I looked at her with some shock. Diana and Tom rarely spoke to each other directly. Perhaps Christmas was causing her to branch out. Whatever the reason, I was happy to see my two friends engaging. Lately it had seemed that they were on opposite sides of an abyss, with me dangling somewhere in the middle, trying to reconcile both.


	12. Part I: Chapter 12 – Return

**Chapter 12 - Return**

**...**

Once the Christmas holiday had passed and the new year had begun, I felt time began to move very quickly. Easter was soon upon us, but no one went home this time—we were all too busy finishing homework and studying for final exams.

At least, everyone but Tom. He seemed back in his old spirits. They must have returned some time in January. I watched as the boys in our year returned from their homes and eagerly surrounded him, anticipating tales of how his holidays passed. I remembered what Tom had said about those boys and felt an urge to break through the barrier and shoo them away each time I saw them form their ring around him.

I contented myself most days to go down to the lake and sit under the big willow tree there. Now that the weather was better, the common room, though cozy as ever at night, gave off a sense of suffocation in the day. Thus, I usually took my study sessions to the outdoors, accompanied by Tom. (As much as I enjoyed Diana's company, she wasn't the best study partner.)

"Name three reasons the Goblin Wars started," Tom prompted.

"No more history," I groaned. "Let's take a break, Tom."

"You're the one who said History of Magic was your worst class," Tom said testily.

"It is," I agreed. "Because it's so boring."

"Fine." Tom set aside the book and leaned his head against the tree trunk, eyes shut. I rolled onto my side in the grass and found a caterpillar munching its way through a leaf.

"Hey Evelyn?"

"Yeah?"

Tom paused before continuing. "Are you ready?"

"As soon as I get this history down—"

"No—I didn't mean that," Tom said. "I meant about ready to go back to Wool's."

I was silent. The knowledge that our stay at Hogwarts would be cut off when summer arrived had always been in the back of my mind, but I hadn't given it any real thought until now. Was it wrong to say I wasn't dreading it? No, the bed wouldn't be as comfortable and the food wouldn't be as good, but a sense of normalcy would be there. And most importantly, couples would come by in the summer often. Three-quarters of my other opportunities were beyond my control, but the summer visits—I would be there for those.

I couldn't relay this information to Tom, though, not when I knew his opinion of the orphanage was nothing short of loathing. It would be even more bitter, now that we knew what we were missing at Hogwarts.

"It'll be nice to Mrs. Cole again," I said instead.

"You'd rather see her than stay here?" Tom scoffed. "Sorry," he muttered a minute later, knowing his words had stung. "I just...I don't want to go back. At all."

"It'll only be for two months," I said. "And even if we can't use magic, we have all our books to read." This was of little comfort to him, though.

"It's ridiculous," he said. "People like us shouldn't be locked up in places like that.

"We'll just have to make the best of it," I said. "Besides, it won't be like before. We'll have each other, won't we?"

Tom looked at me like he was a bit surprised and I suddenly felt that perhaps I had defined our relationship in a manner he didn't agree with. But then he smiled a little. "Of course. I guess that will make a difference. Now should we get back to those Goblin Wars?"

* * *

I had never sat final exams, not real ones, so the prospect of them was slightly daunting.

"Forget about them!" Eleanor the painted lady said, two days before the big day. "It's summer!"

"I don't know if that's the best advice, Eleanor," I said, carefully putting my notes away and wiping her frame. "I want to do well on these."

"Oh, they aren't such hard things," Eleanor said impatiently. "Drivel, most like. I'll bet that history class you're always going on about will be a breeze. Even a simpleton like me could probably take it."

"Almost everything happened after you-existed," I finally decided on, after searching for the right word.

"My point is, dear Evelyn, is that you worry too much. A test is just a test, after all. Think of it like this. Freedom is nearly in your grasp. Do you want it to be spoiled by the idea that you might have not done so great? Of course not. All that tension is just going to wind you up. So relax!"

Easier said than done, though. The night before, I stayed by the common room fire with a blanket wrapped around me, frantically rereading my notes until Diana and Rachel had to come and physically drag me into bed. I wasn't much better at breakfast the next morning either, managing only a small bowl of porridge down my parched throat.

First was Potions. I swept through the theoretical exam easily, but I realized too late that I hadn't cut my ginger finely enough during the practical portion. There was no time to dwell that, though. Next up was Charms.

The day slowly ticked by. We were granted a brief reprieve at noon to eat lunch, during which we rehashed our experiences. I was comforted to hear Diana joking about accidentally turning her pincushion into a full blown porcupine, instead of the hedgehog we were supposed to be conjuring. In between laughs, I glanced down the table to where Tom sat, surrounded by his fans. They seemed to be clinging to him more closely today than they normally did, hanging onto his every word in hope that it would come up in one of their next exams.

Predictably, History of Magic was the one I ended up detesting the most. As there was no practical application that could be tested, the written portion was about triple the length compared to our other classes. My head was swimming with names and dates when I left the classroom, but I was also relieved-no Goblin Wars questions had appeared.

With classes now over and the late afternoon just approaching, I decided to go back to the dorms to begin packing. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving the next morning at eleven, and I didn't want my final hours at school to be spent tearing the room apart for one of my books. Most of my belongings had just been stowed in my trunk for the year, but as the months had passed, the organization of such belongings had become rather haphazard, leaving the daunting task of trying to fit everything nicely enough so the lid would shut completely.

I was at the task for a few hours before I finished. I had set aside my pajamas for tonight and a pale blue dress for the train ride, but other than these, everything else was nearly packed away, sitting on top of my stacks of books. The common room sounded full now; every once in a while I'd hear some shouts. _Taking a break before the feast_, I thought. The giant squid was currently giving us a final show of its tricks, accompanied by some of the merpeople. The view would be better in the common room, but I was happy enough to just watch from the dorm window.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I arrived back at Wool's. What excuse had Mrs. Cole give to the others to explain our absence? Hopefully nothing too damaging, but there weren't many options to choose from to begin with.

The more I thought about the inevitable return, the more I started to dread it. I felt almost...a little scared. I hadn't seen the others in months. It would be like I was meeting them for the first time all over again. Would they treat me the same way they had before? I suddenly jumped up and ran to look at myself in the mirror. I thought back to September. I had been thin then. Maybe a tad pallid and perpetually sickly-looking. There was always an appearance of dullness that infected all the Wool's orphans. Such was not the case now. My face was healthy, my frame a little stronger from the months of good eating. My hair boasted a healthy golden brightness, my blue eyes shone a touch brighter. No doubt Hogwarts had provided me with some much needed nourishment. I found it difficult to believe that the others would not view me with a certain degree of resentment, but I couldn't blame them, either. I knew I would have felt the same if I were in their position.

I returned to my bed slowly. _It isn't about the other children_, I told myself. _It doesn't matter what they think. Only the adults.._.

The idea of being taken in...it was still my dream. It made my stomach lurch when I thought about it now, though.

I was growing older.

It was common knowledge that older children were rarely ever even considered. The likelihood of me finding a family was becoming smaller and smaller, a fact that I hated to face. And now, on top of that was the obvious. There were twice as many hurdles now. A couple would have to be willing to adopt a near-teenager (a rarity already) who was also a practitioner of magic.

Not exactly a perfect child.

* * *

Before I knew it, we were back in the carriages and being transported to the train station. Despite the circumstances, nearly everyone was talkative and excitedly bragging to their friends what they would be doing over the summer holidays. I wasn't asked about my plans by many. I wondered if it was out of tact, if people knew an orphan probably wouldn't have any grand adventures in the works, but I didn't care either way. I was glad I had spent the last night thinking about today, so my moroseness could be passed off as not wanting to leave Hogwarts.

When the train pulled into the station, I peered out of the window. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was just as full now as it had been on the first day. Crowds of parents and siblings were lined up, eagerly waiting for us to disembark.

"Evelyn! Follow me!" We had only just managed to carry our luggage down to the platform when she grabbed my hand. She led me through the throng, a slow process with us both dragging our things behind us. I had no idea where we were going, only that it seemed the opposite direction of the exit.

"Mum! Dad!" Diana shouted. A huge grin on her face, she leaped into the arms of her parents and hugged them.

"Hey there, kid!" her father said after a moment, loosening his tight grasp to lett her go. "Long time no see! How was it?"

"So amazing!" Diana exclaimed. "Just like you said, Mum."

I hung awkwardly back while they spoke. My face felt inflamed and I looked away, thinking I probably looked like an eavesdropper. It was only when I heard my name that I faced them again.

"...This is Evelyn," Diana said, reaching backward and urging me forward. "Evelyn, these are my parents."

I smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"And you," Mr. Hunter said. "We've heard quite a bit about you."

"Did you enjoy your first year?" her mother asked.

"Oh—yes. It was wonderful," I said. "I can't wait to go back."

"Of course," Mrs. Hunter said. "What about the holidays? Will you be very busy?"

I suddenly wondered if Diana had told her parents about my situation. As I hesitated, however, Diana squeezed my hand in encouragement.

"Ah—no. Just staying in London."

"Oh, Evelyn, then you must come visit," Diana said. "We live in London too; we could see each other every day! Mum, please?"

"Every day may be a bit much," Mrs. Hunter said, "but yes, of course. We'd be happy to have you, Evelyn."

"Then I'm looking forward to it," I agreed. "Do you have a telephone number I could call?"

"Here you are," Mr. Hunter said, passing me a card with the number written on it.

"Here's mine," I said, tearing a corner off the card and returning the gesture. "Just ask for me to whoever picks up."

"Perfect," Mr. Hunter said. "Now then, we'd better be off; Grandmum is waiting. Do you have your luggage?"

"Right here!" Diana said, patting the handle. "Looks like I have to go, Evelyn," she said, turning to me. Her face was a little sad. "But I was serious about coming over, all right? If you don't call, I will."

"Okay," I said. "I'll ask Mrs. Cole when we get back."

Diana beamed and gave me a hug, tight and warm.

"Thanks for everything," I said, meaning it. I probably wouldn't have survived the year without Diana.

"You too," she said. Then she pulled back and smiled. "I'll see you soon, all right? Call me whenever you want."

"Okay," I repeated. "See you soon."

With that, she was walking away. I stood in the middle of the platform watching her in between her parents until they had been lost in the sea of people. Suddenly I blinked, and the world came rushing back to me. I heard the soft hum of the activity around me and looked around. Mrs. Cole wouldn't be anywhere here; she wasn't able to get onto this platform. Would Tom have already left or was he somewhere waiting for me? I hoped the latter. I doubted that he would want to spend any time alone with Mrs. Cole anyway.

Sure enough, as I neared the exit, I saw him leaning against one of the brick walls. Almost all who passed him shouted out to him. Have a great summer, Tom. See you next year, Tom. Take it easy, Tom. He acknowledged each one slightly, with that small nod or smirk of his. Then he saw me approaching and straightened up.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded, and after a final look around the platform, we found ourselves back in the Muggle world.

* * *

**A/N: And that's it for Part I of The Invisible Girl! I haven't been asking for reviews too often, but now that the first part of the story is completed, I'd really love to hear some feedback about what you thought about it. There's going to be a small interlude (about two or three chapters) between Parts I and II to cover how Evelyn's first summer back from Hogwarts goes down, which I've already started, and then we'll start back up with Part II, which will begin in Evelyn and Tom's third year beginning 1940. Thanks for reading! **


	13. Interlude: Chapter 1 – What a Reception

**INTERLUDE**

**Chapter 1 - What a Reception**

**...**

"Both of your rooms are just as they were when you left them," Mrs. Cole said. "And there are some sandwiches that you can eat when we we get back, if you would like."

"All right. Thank you," I said quietly from the back. The car ride back from King's Cross was nothing short of awkward, to say the least. Mrs. Cole, always a rather jumpy woman, I thought, seemed to be doubly so today. I didn't take her behavior to be very encouraging. If even she was nervous around us again, what would the other children be like? Tom just kept his eyes fixed out the window, his expression growing more and more surly with each block we passed. I kept my hands in my lap, twisting them together to distract myself.

Finally, I saw the gate appear through the windshield. As we passed under it, I felt a great weight drop in my stomach that didn't lessen as we got out. I stared up at the building and shivered a little. There wasn't anything about the place that was welcoming.

The inside was as dreary as before, too. Musty and dusty, but by the time I had lugged my trunk back up to my room, the unfamiliar scent had already settled, and it was like I hadn't been away at all.

I spent the rest of the morning putting away my things, mostly clothes. All my books and school supplies I elected to keep in my trunk, which I shoved under my bed, but not before taking my wand out. I didn't dare to wave it, in case some unexpected spell was suddenly cast. Instead I just let it rest in my hands, trying to imprint the feeling before quickly stowing it away and putting it out of sight. I stood up and brushed my hands off.

_That's that_, I thought. I glanced through the door that I had left open to where Tom's room was, across the hall from mine. I thought about going in to see him, but I figured Tom would probably want some time to process being back at the orphanage. Besides, I'd see him at dinner.

* * *

It was an uncomfortable affair. I made sure to grab my own seat early on so I wouldn't have to make a grand appearance, but there wasn't much use in my forethought, because the moment Tom came in and sat down next to me, I could feel all eyes on us. My face grew warm and I hesitantly raised my eyes to look at them. Most of the other orphans were shocked, others looked wary.

That gave me a start. They were…scared? Where did they think we had gone? My gaze slowly roved across the room, until I finally locked eyes with Alice. Her face was just as spiteful and mean as I remembered it, and I felt a deep chill throughout myself. She was fourteen now, I realized.

Running out of time.

The chill that I had felt was replaced with a flash of sympathy. I'd thought I was out of luck—Hogwarts wasn't a real family to me, but at least it was more of a home than Wool's was. Alice had no such place to go to. She was stuck here, until she became of age, and then I didn't know what would happen to her. If I never found parents…at least I would be able to fall back on Hogwarts and Diana…they would help me for a little while…

Everyone had looked away. I blinked, and suddenly no one was staring at us anymore. Soft conversations floated between tables, utensils clinked on plates. I turned back to my own meal, stared at the piece of chicken there for a moment, and stuck it with my fork before quickly transferring it to my mouth.

_Had it always tasted this way? Had the bread always been this crumbly?_ I was sure the food had always been adequate, but now it seemed downright unappetizing. I sighed inwardly. I'd become really spoiled.

* * *

It was about a week after we had returned when I realized that I'd hardly spoken three sentences since setting foot back in Wool's. Virtually all the other children steered clear of me now, even the ones that I had been on good terms with before leaving. Alice didn't even seem to have the spirit to torment me, other then shooting me spitting looks every once in a while. Tom stayed holed up in his room most of the time; I only ever saw him really at meals and sometimes when we went to bed at night, after washing up. It was then that I remembered the card that I had received from Diana's father. I bound over to my coat and fished around in the pocket, pulling the piece of paper out after a moment.

I ventured downstairs to where Mrs. Cole worked and knocked on the door. "Mrs. Cole?"

"Evelyn. What is it?"

"I'd like to make a call," I said hesitantly. I had never used the orphanage phone before. "May I use the telephone?"

"Who are you calling?" Mrs. Cole asked.

"A friend from school," I answered.

"All right, go on, then," Mrs. Cole said. She was about to turn back to her desk, when I interjected once more,

"Um—if I were to go see her sometime at her home—would that be all right? Just for a day," I clarified.

Mrs. Cole looked at me carefully. I stood stock still, but was squirming on the inside. Mrs. Cole had never really scrutinized me, since I had always been a docile girl. I wondered if she suddenly thought that I was some pre-teen delinquent who really just wanted to go out and get cigarettes down the block. But then she nodded slowly.

"Fine," she conceded. "But unless you can walk there, they'll have to come get you and bring you back. I too busy to drive you."

"Yes, of course," I said. "Thank you."

I dashed down the hall to where the telephone was and dialed the number carefully. I had never used a phone before, so hearing the ringing on the other end took me aback. It rang three times before I heard someone pick up.

"Hello?" It was a man.

"Hello, Mr. Hunter?"

"Yes, this is him. Who's speaking?"

"Er—this is Evelyn Spencer, from King's Cross. I'm friends with Diana…"

"Ah yes, that's right," Mr. Hunter said. "Forgive me. It's hard to recognize just the a voice sometime. Would you like me to put her on?"

"Yes, please," I said.

There was some muffled noise through the line, and then—

"Evelyn?"

"Diana!"

"Well well well! You took your sweet time. I've been waiting for you, Evelyn," Diana said.

"Yeah…sorry it took so long. It's taken a little while to settle down over here," I said quietly.

"Ah, yes. How are things?"

"As to be expected," I said. "I think Tom is having a hard time adjusting."

"What about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," I said. "It's been pretty quiet. No one—no one really talks to me anymore. And they used to."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Diana said. "I wish I could help."

"Ah, it's all right," I sighed. "It's not like it's your fault. I think part of it has to do with Tom," I admitted, lowering my voice.

"Tom? What do you mean?"

"Well, before we knew what we were, officially, I mean, Tom—somehow knew that he was magic. And he would show the others sometimes. I guess—scary things, so they ended up being scared of him too."

"And now you come back his friend," Diana finished. "Makes sense."

"Yeah…well, it's only for a little while. The holidays always go by fast, don't they?

"They do," Diana agreed. "Anyway, you can come over like I said, and then you can get away from the others. The only thing is that my grandmum is staying over right now until the week after next, so would you be okay until waiting after she leaves? Mum and Dad want me to spend some time with her…"

"Oh—yeah, of course," I said. "That's fine. Um—I'll call you again, then."

"Okay, I'll look forward to it," Diana said. And I hung up.

* * *

I thought the next few weeks would be full of impatient waiting, but I had no idea.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not posting in a while. I'm starting college abroad, so the last couple of weeks have just been getting ready and adjusting. Once things settle down I hope I'll be able to update more regularly again.**


	14. Interlude: Chapter 2 – Monroe Interview

**Chapter 2 - Monroe Interview**

**...**

The resounding echo of the knocks on the door could be heard all throughout the building. I sat straight up in my bed, listening carefully to make sure that I had really heard it. Apparently, the others seemed to think they might have misheard, Mrs. Cole included, because it wasn't until another knock that I heard her rush to open the door.

At the sound of a pair of unfamiliar voices, I leapt out of the bed where I had been reading and dashed to the window. Yes, there was a card in the courtyard! I ran out into the hallway and leaned over the bannister. There were people here…there were really people here!

A little more controlled, I went back to my room and shut the door to think a little. It had been a while since I had seen anyone come interested, but now it seemed like this was my chance. If I saw this through…maybe my wish would come true.

It was an hour later when I heard a door slam. I made it to the window in time to see the car driving out, but I wasn't worried. Today had probably just been a consultation. It always started out like this. They'd come, see the place, and then come back a different day to see us.

"I suppose you heard," I asked Tom at dinner later. He still had not commented on it at all, despite the room being more a buzz than usual.

"What, about that couple that was here earlier? Of course."

"I guess you still don't care?"

"Not really. But if you are, you should try to make an impression."

I sat up a little straighter. "I mean to, Tom."

"Good." He kept his eyes fixed on a spot in front of him, still utterly disinterested.

Tom might have not cared in the slightest, but I was sure he was the only one. The next few days, Wool's was a beehive of activity: cleaning of rooms, ironing of clothes. When the Monroes came back on Saturday, the place—and all of us—had to look the best we ever had. On the day of, I carefully combed my hair while wondering if all those people ever thought about what we were doing and all the effort we put into this one day—often to be let down.

They rang a little before lunch, quickly ushered into Mrs. Cole's office until we had all gathered in the mess to eat, at which point Martha would discreetly come in with them, stand, and point us out to them. Mrs. Cole was aware that some of us would act out in the presence of potential parents. She didn't like to make a big fuss and encouraged us to act like we normally would, so the people could see how we really were. This was, of course, a lot to ask of a large group of children who were all, essentially, hoping for the grand prize themselves, especially when we had all gone through this process before and knew that we were already being "inspected". When we were finished, we'd all file back to our rooms, passing the couple quickly, giving them a brief look before going our way.

Everyone knew the drill now. The couple would go back to Mrs. Cole's office, talk with her a little. Tell her which one of us had interested them, and they'd come talk to us directly to get to know us. It was usually just three or four lucky orphans who managed to reach this second, crucial step. Who were they with right now? Alice? Her pretty looks were always considered. But I hadn't anyone come upstairs yet. Maybe they hadn't started at all. Maybe they were still in Mrs. Cole's office, looking out pictures in her files. It'd be a little while before they got around to seeing us, then. At least, that was my experience…Or maybe it was the complete opposite. They decided no on here was what they were looking for. Most of us weren't babies anyway—isn't that what most people imagined when they adopted? A newborn baby, to be brought up as much as their own as possible. We weren't that; we were practically adults! I clenched my fists. This waiting always drove me mad. I stared at the door, waiting, wishing, praying for that knock—

And it came.

* * *

I bolted up, hardly daring to believe it. _I was one of them!_ In my haste, I almost knocked over my bedside table. With shaking hands, I straightened it and went to the door. Taking in a deep breath, I smoothed my dress and opened the door slowly.

The three of them were there. Mrs. Cole, a man, and a woman.

"Evelyn Spencer," Mrs. Cole introduced. "Evelyn, this is Mr. and Mrs. Monroe."

I stared up at them. It had been so long that I had been chosen that I thought I had forgotten how to speak. In that moment, all I could comprehend was how very beautiful they were, like they had come straight out of the pictures from America. They were both very tall, Mrs. Monroe possessing lovely honey brown hair that fell to her shoulders and framing her face, her husband strong but gentle-looking.

"H-hello," I said, somehow unable to look them in the eye. As I fixated my gaze somewhere along their knees, I felt my face burn up. _Don't ruin it!_ I commanded myself fiercely. I forced my head up and held out my hand, hoping they wouldn't notice its slight clamminess. "It's very nice to meet you."

"I'll leave you three alone, then," Mrs. Cole murmured. She backed away and close the door behind her, leaving me alone with the Monroes. Mrs. Monroe smiled.

"Please don't be worried," she said. "We just want to know you a little."

I smiled faintly. "Yes—of course."

"Why don't we sit?" Mr. Monroe suggested. "We may be here a while, so may as well be comfortable."

"I only have this chair," I began, embarrassed, but Mr. Monroe waved a hand.

"No matter," he said.

"I'm sure I'll be very comfortable on the bed sitting next to you," Mrs. Monroe added. And just like that, she lowered herself onto the mattress while her husband took the chair. After a moment of hesitation, I decided I better join them.

"How old are you?" Mrs. Monroe asked.

"I just turned twelve," I said.

"Oh! Well, we should have brought you something," Mrs. Monroe said. "When was your birthday?"

"June 21st," I replied. "And it's all right. You couldn't have known." Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered that this was all information they probably already knew from looking at my file, and that this was just to make me comfortable. I heaved another breath as discreetly as I could.

"Summer birthdays are my favorite," Mr. Monroe said. "Since it's so warm out. Did you do anything special?"

I thought back. I had probably been studying for the final exams, but I remembered taking a break under the willow tree with Diana for a little while. I shrugged. "Nothing much," I said. "But my friend and I talked for a long time. I was in school at the time, you see."

"Ah. Do you like school?" Mr. Monroe said.

"Yes," I said automatically.

"What's your favorite class?" Mrs. Monroe said.

Impulsively, I grabbed a corner of my pillow. Favorite class? I couldn't very tell them Charms; they'd have no idea what that meant. I racked my brain, and then came upon the one subject that I remembered having a Muggle counterpart:

"History."

"Excellent!" Mr. Monroe nodded approvingly. "I quite agree with you there. The past is fascinating, isn't it?"

The memories of me struggling to understand those stupid Goblin Wars flashed through my mind, and I couldn't help but grin a little at the irony. Using my most dreaded subject as a conversation topic to get in with the Monroes.

Then suddenly I felt a wash of disgust. What was I doing? Creating some false picture of myself, that's what. Making myself out to be someone I wasn't, so I'd have a better chance at being The One. Was I that desperate? Shame began to creep up inside me.

"Come now, why the long face?" Mr. Monroe said. "What's wrong?"

"I…I…"

It had been a stupid reaction. Whoever it was…they'd have to know eventually, right? I was reminded of Alice and her meanness towards me, and how I always detested her putting on airs of sweetness whenever people came to see her. Was I not doing the exact same thing? Luring people in by creating the ideal me. The ideal me…not being a witch. Unfortunately, it wasn't the truth.

"It's nothing," I said, smiling. "I just—I don't really like history after all. I just said that. I don't know why, really." And I laughed a little.

To my relief, so did the Monroes. "It's normal to be nervous, isn't it?" Mrs. Monroe comforted. "It's all right. We all are here."

"Then what do you like?" Mr. Monroe prompted. "I promise we won't laugh."

"I…" I had a split second to make my decision. I could lie again, or say what I really thought.

"Charms," I answered. When I did, I felt like I had been cut loose from a line. A great weight had been released.

"Charms?" Mr. Monroe repeated. "I've never heard of such a class before. Is this something new?"

"I'm not familiar with it either," Mrs. Monroe said.

"I think only my school teaches it," I said, realizing it was all or nothing at this point.

"What school would that be?"

"It's called Hogwarts," I said, as casually as possible. "It's a boarding school up in Scotland, so I don't think a lot of people know about it here."

"Indeed…" Mr. Monroe said. I ventured to ascertain his expression and was almost brought down when I saw that his face was as open as it had been before, his wife as well. They weren't put off?

"What else did you learn at Hogwarts?" Mrs. Monroe wanted to know.

"We mix potions," I said. "And there's a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Self-defense?" Mr. Monroe said. "Top job, then. Very important in this day and age, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes!" I said happily. "But it's one of the hardest classes. I like Charms best because it's a lot more fun, and the spells we learn are easier too—"

"Spells?" Mrs. Monroe repeated. "Did I hear that correctly?"

"Oh—yes, you did," I said, a little shyly. "The truth is, Hogwarts's official name is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This past year was my first year there. I'm a witch."

The Monroes stared at me.

"A witch?" Mr. Monroe repeated.

"Yes."

"One who does magic?"

"Yes."

Husband and wife exchanged glances.

"Well—that certainly is interesting," Mrs. Monroe said. "You've always been one?"

"Well, I think so," I said. "I didn't know myself until about this time last year, though. A man came and told me the truth, and then he said I'd go to this school Hogwarts, and I did."

"What man?" Mr. Monroe asked.

"He's a teacher at Hogwarts," I explained. "His name is Professor Dumbledore, and he's apparently very famous."

"I must read the papers more," Mr. Monroe chuckled. "I've never heard of him. Well, well. Would you look at that. A witch, you say? That's quite a story."

* * *

**A/N: To the guest reviewer from the last chapter—thank you very much! You are too sweet :)**

** Reviews make me happy, so why not leave one? Thanks for reading, guys. **


	15. Interlude: Chapter 3 – Raw and Numb

**Chapter 3 - Raw and Numb**

**...**

"Tom! _Tom!_" I knocked on his door until my fist hurt, and he finally opened up.

"What gotten into you?" he said, frowning.

"Tom, I told them! _I told them!_"

"Told who what?"

"The Monroes! About…you know."

Tom's eyes widened. "_You told them?_ How could you do that?"

"Well I thought if they were interested, they'd have to know eventually, right? But listen to this—they believed me!"

Tom's face turned from what of shock to incredulity. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you? No Muggle would ever believe that."

"No, but Tom, they did!" I whispered. "They kept on asking me questions, and I told them about Dumbledore, and everything—"

"That doesn't mean they believe you," Tom pointed out.

"Oh, but Tom, don't you see? At least it means they were interested!" I said. "They didn't—brush me off, walk out right then and there! They listened to me, they really did!"

Tom studied me, his dark eyes still doubtful. "You really think they might?"

He didn't have to make his thought clearer. I shrugged happily. "It's the closest I've ever been."

Tom continued to look at me, and then he smiled. "Well, whatever. If that's the case, then I'll be hoping for you."

"Really? Oh, I really appreciate that, Tom." Now that the initial excitement had wound down, I realized the Monroes hadn't talked to Tom, which meant he was out of the running. As usual, Tom had made it clear he had no interest in being picked, but I hadn't thought about what it might mean for him if I was, his only ally in the orphanage.

The Monroes left late afternoon that day. I watched their car from my room, adrenaline still coursing through me. All week, I replayed the conversation in my head, dissecting each line spoken. I didn't want to raise my hopes too far, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it was possible. There hadn't been a note of disgust I'd heard at any point when I had been talking about magic. Shock, yes, but that was to be expected…

A week and a half later, they were back. This time when I heard their car pull up, I ran down the steps and was at the landing when Martha let them in. They caught sight of me waving at them and returned the gesture, smiling at me. I felt my heart racing as they spoke to Mrs. Cole outside her office before going in and closing the door. Today was probably going to be decision day. I stayed at the top of the stairs for a moment, running my hand over the bannister, before temptation won me over. Silently, I crept down the steps and put my ear to the wall of Mrs. Cole's office.

"…apologize for taking so long in getting back to you." That was Mrs. Monroe.

"No, it's no trouble," Mrs. Cole assured them. "It's a big decision."

"Yes. Only, we have a few questions to ask before we confirm," Mr. Monroe said. "We're between two of the girls right now."

"Ah yes, which two?"

"Molly Green and Evelyn Spencer."

It took all my willpower to not scream then. _Calm down._ So it was Molly who was the other contender? She was seven…quite younger than me, but also more rambunctious. Would they like her enthusiasm? Or would they prefer someone who would probably be less troublesome?

"Fine girls," Mrs. Cole said. "Both of them would be a wonderful addition to any home."

"Yes…our concern is with Evelyn," Mr. Monroe said. I froze. "When we first began, she was perfect. Like a lamb. But what we worry about is…well, to put it bluntly: is she quite right in the head?"

I stopped breathing, but now my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.

"Quite right, what do you mean?" came Mrs. Cole's polite reply.

"We were talking to her," Mrs. Monroe said, "and out of nowhere, she says that she goes to a boarding school up in Scotland called Hogwarts, and that she's a witch. Is this true?"

"Well, children her age do have a wonderful imagination," Mrs. Cole said.

_Please Mrs. Cole…stick up for me…_

_ "_…but part of her story is true. She does attend a separate boarding school in Scotland."

"Why there, though? Is it…an accelerated program, perhaps? Why are the schools in London not fit for her?" Mr. Monroe pressed.

"I'm not quite sure myself," Mrs. Cole admitted. "A man from the school came last summer and insisted that she was to attend. I'm not exactly what is taught there. He wouldn't give me any more specifics."

"Has she ever been—tested?" Mrs. Monroe questioned.

"No."

"Because the way she talked about it—it was like she was in a whole different world," Mr. Monroe said. "I think she really believes it."

"How long did you speak with her about it?"

"Just a few minutes," Mrs. Cole. "We asked her some questions, like a test, you see, to see if she was making it up, but she just kept answering like it was all common sense. We…we didn't know how to say we didn't believe her politely."

_We didn't believe her._ It had all been an act…All at once, I felt numb.

"If I will be quite honest with you," Mrs. Cole said, "Evelyn was never quite normal when she was a child, either. There would be accidents, and we never knew exactly how they happened. And Evelyn never knew how to explain them either, only that she hadn't done anything wrong."

Silence settled inside the office, but I was slowly filling up with horror. What was happening? I had thought this was it, and now I was hearing my best chance so far slowly being killed.

"Well—judging based on what we've heard and observed…I think it would be better for us to have Molly."

"So you will not consider Evelyn anymore?"

A pause.

"No."

That was all I needed to hear. Not caring if I made a noise, I fled up the stairs and back to my room, slamming the door. Once in the safety of my own quarters, I couldn't stop myself from crying. I stood in the middle of the room, tears falling onto the wood panels like raindrops. I tried to be quiet, but I couldn't. My cries grew and grew, until I knew that I was bawling loudly enough for the whole floor to hear.

This was completely my fault, all my doing. I should have never brought up Hogwarts in the first place. It was the one thing that had ruined my whole case. Before I had mentioned it, I had been gold. With one word, one sentence, I had made the decision for them. And the worst part was that I could hardly blame them. I knew if I had been in their position, with no knowledge of the wizarding world and ignorant of magic, I would have been just as likely to write it off as some girl who wasn't all there. It was all over.

"Hey."

I whipped around and saw Tom standing there. "You're making a racket, you know," he said, closing the door.

I didn't have any heart in me to reply, so I turned around again and kept crying. But at this point, I think I had exhausted my body of tears: The floor at my feet was thoroughly damp now, and I was fatigued beyond measure. Still, I didn't want to lay down. I just put my arms thinly around myself, now shivering and tired and dizzy. I was too much in shock to react to anything.

"So I guess it didn't turn out?"

I shook my head shortly. Even the small motion made my head hurt.

"You want anything?" Tom offered after a moment.

I almost laughed. Do I want anything? "Just a family," I said weakly.

"I can't get you that."

_No, no you can't. No one can. Not even me._

"You want water? I can get you some water," Tom said.

"Just go away," I said. Another time I'd recognize this was a rare moment of Tom trying to reach out, but at the moment I didn't want to talk to anyone.

I heard Tom sigh. "I'm sorry, Evelyn," he said. I heard him turn and walk out, shutting the door with a click. I looked around and found myself alone again. Alone with just myself. I walked a few paces forward and let myself fall onto the bed, feeling fresh tears leak onto the pillow I buried my head into.

* * *

I skipped dinner that day. I knew it would be more than I could bear, walking into that room and seeing Molly there, all awash in joy. I lay motionless on my bed, watching the room grow darker. I guess cried myself to sleep, because I felt myself waking up, the time now clearly night.

I rolled over onto my back. My head was still pounding, but I thought I felt marginally better after the sleep. I was dreading tomorrow, when I would probably be forced out of bed and have to face the others. If they hadn't known before how ardently I had been hoping to be chosen, they would after my absence from dinner and no doubt from hearing me. It was humiliating.

A knock on the door. I sat up in the dark. "Who is it?" I called out dully.

"Tom," came the muffled reply. I considered, and then got up to receive him.

"Telephone," Tom said without preamble. "Mrs. Cole sent me to get you."

"Tele…phone," I repeated slowly. Then—

"I don't want to talk to anyone."

"I think it's Diana," Tom said.

"Diana?" I repeated. "Fine." I brushed passed him and found the phone, where it was hanging precariously off a hook.

"Hello?"

"Evelyn! Hey, my grandmum left two days ago and we're finished cleaning up the place. Wanna come over tomorrow?"

Two weeks ago, I would have accepted immediately. But now…I closed my eyes and pictured Diana being embraced by her parents. Being surrounded by all that happiness and family. I was sure if I went, I'd spend the whole time in a fit of resentment and sadness.

"No," I said shortly. "I—I don't want to. I'm sorry."

"Why not? You said you would last time." I heard the hurt in her voice and again felt a stab of self-hate.

"I just don't want to," I repeated. "I'm not in the mood." I felt a rise of tears. "Good bye." I hung up quickly before I could cry, but I didn't feel relieved at all.


	16. Interlude: Chapter 4 – 1939

**Chapter 16 – 1939**

**...**

The rest of the summer was unexciting. What events did occur were of minimal importance to me. I spent the rest of the holidays in a sort of haze, blindly going through my routine activities. Waking up. Brushing my teeth. Eating meals. Taking a shower, and then going back to bed. I knew there wasn't much use in moping around and being morose, but I couldn't find it within me to try to perk up.

I eventually called Diana again to explain a little of what happened. I was acutely aware of the fact that my last point of contact with her had been curt, and the last thing I needed was for us to not be on good terms. I could tell she was disappointed that I didn't want to see her at her home anymore, but she thankfully understood and didn't press me more than I offered.

After I cleared the air with Diana, I felt a great release. I still thought about the Monroes a great deal, but it didn't feel like it was a weight I was carrying all on my own now. As the holiday drew to a close, though, I knew that as much as it had hurt, I had to put the whole situation behind me. School was to start again soon, and there wasn't time for me to be brooding about what could have been.

School did start again, and September 1st, 1939, Tom and I were packed and ready to make the drive to King's Cross. It was hard to be excited, though. I sat downstairs with nearly all the other orphans. We were all crowded around a radio, listening to the announcement that Poland had been invaded by Germany. I felt a great rush of fear. It was above my ability to understand what was happening, but I knew that it was very grave news…

Not that I could do much about it, but whatever the announcer kept saying was important enough that Mrs. Cole delegated the task of driving Tom and I to Martha. She said nothing on the entire way, dropping us off mutely before abruptly saying goodbye and turning right around. I looked around the station. All around, people were worried. Some were crying. Again, I felt the sense that something very big was in the making, but I had almost no understanding of it.

"Come on, Evelyn," Tom said impatiently, jerking me out of my thoughts. I followed him to the proper brick pillar and, running at it until we had glided through onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Here, too, people appeared to be wracked with worry. _Even the wizards are worried?_ I thought. I thought they normally cared very little about Muggle matters.

"Riddle!"

My attention was drawn to a dark-haired boy I recognized to be Lestrange. Tom's surly expression turned into a smirk.

"All right, then?" Lestrange asked, with a swagger far grander than was appropriate. "How were the summer holidays?"

Tom shrugged. "Glad to be back here."

Lestrange laughed. "Just in time, too." At Tom's questioning look, he went on, "You must have heard. The Muggles—they're pissing themselves over that Hitler. Any longer out there and he's all you'd ever here about."

"That's not very nice, is it?" I said cooly.

Lestrange stopped his laughing to regard me. "Oh, sorry," he drawled, but his apology only made me angrier.

"It sounds like there's a war on," I said. "You shouldn't make fun."

Lestrange made a face and held his hands up. "All right, all right. Didn't realize—"

"Can you drop it?" Tom interrupted pointedly. Lestrange shut his mouth. "Anyway…"

"Yeah—yeah," Lestrange blustered, suddenly uncomfortable. "I've got a compartment already. Come on?"

Tom nodded at me. "I'll find you at the feast."

"Okay. See you then," I agreed, and turned away. Time for me to find my other friends.

* * *

Two days later, it was September 3rd, 1939. The only headline that I saw that day from the Daily Prophet was _BRITISH MUGGLES AT WAR WITH GERMANY. SPENCER-MOON AND CHAMBERLAIN IN CONTACT._ I thought inexplicably of the people I had seen crying in King's Cross. No doubt their sons would be joining up for duty soon, if not today. As I left the Great Hall, my mind was filled with thoughts. Even if the Minister for Magic was talking with the Muggle Prime Minister, I somehow knew that us students would be kept far away from this war.

While the world outside raged, it was a quiet year.

* * *

**A/N: Hello readers! I'm sure that you'll all be happy to know that this is the last chapter for the interlude and Part II will be starting with the next update, with Tom and Evelyn in their third year. There will be one more interlude after Part II, but it'll be the last one, since fifth, sixth, and seventh years are when things really start rolling. **


	17. Part II: Chapter 1 – A Boy and a Girl

**Part II**

**Chapter 1 - A Boy and a Girl**

**...**

The boy was enormous.

He was simply _big_. He towered over the other first years, dwarfing them so the ones directly in front of him were covered in shadow. My mouth dropped slightly when I saw him. How could he only be eleven years old?

"I…I do suppose he's human, right?" I said slowly.

"Probably mixed," Diana said in hushed tones. "Half-giant, half-human."

I turned to look at her, shocked. "Is that possible?"

"Mm," she said, nodding solemnly. "It's rare, obviously. But it can happen sometimes."

I fixed my gaze on the large boy. Despite his imposing stature, his face was kind. Black eyes peered nervously around the Great Hall, not missing any of the dubious expressions he was receiving. I felt sorry for him. I remembered how terrified I had been my first day. He must have been even more petrified, what with having to deal with the staring.

Everyone clapped politely for each sorted student, but it was easy to tell that we were all just waiting for the large boy to take his turn. When his name, "Hagrid, Rubeus!" was called, a calm swept over the hall. He climbed the short flight of steps to the stool and carefully perched himself atop it. The old Sorting Hat was placed on his mane of black hair and we all watched.

If people had been expecting for the boy to take a while, though, they were surprised. It was less than a minute later when the Sorting Hat announced, "_GRYFFINDOR!"_ A wild burst of applause erupted from their table. Hagrid left the stool, looking immensely relieved. I followed him with my eyes to where he was joined some other first years. A few older students clapped him heartily on the black. I let out my own sigh as Dumbledore called for read out "Hornby, Olive."

The group of students slowly dwindled down. I viewed the remaining bunch. None of them stood out as particularly unique, except perhaps one girl. She was small and scrawny, even more pathetic-looking than what I imagined Tom or I might have looked like when we first arrived at Hogwarts. She wore round glasses with thick lenses, and her thin brown hair contrasted sharply against her white complexion. Her paleness wasn't a compliment to her looks, though, like Tom's. Rather, it was a detriment: stark and almost death-like. I felt a sense of trepidation for her. I knew what people looked for when they wanted to torment someone. This girl embodied all of it.

"Warren, Myrtle!"

The girl stumbled forward awkwardly. The Sorting Hat took a long time with her, perhaps the longest of any student thus far. "_RAVENCLAW!_" the Sorting Hat eventually screamed, leaving Myrtle to thankfully escape the hundreds of eyes that were on her.

Following the final student to be sorted, Professor Dippet stood up. I knew what his speech would contain. More warnings of Dark wizards' power growing in Germany, and that we would be well-advised to be on guard, even if the war concerned Muggles. I couldn't help thinking of everyone at Wool's. I thought that all the fighting was mostly happening on the Continent, but surely London would be affected somehow? As much as Wool's was unappealing…if it was destroyed, Tom and I would really be at a loss.

"Now—" Professor Dippet clapped his hands together. "Enough of that. Welcome all at last to a new year at Hogwarts, new and returning students. A delicious feast and warm beds await us, so believe that it would be best if I just allowed you all to eat. I trust you all agree?" There was a rousing sound of agreement, and Dippet sat back down. As he did, the plates were immediately filled.

I hadn't seen my classmates for weeks, but talk turned quickly from summer to the start of classes. Now that we were in our third years, it meant that we were to begin studying new subjects. Tom was taking Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Ancient Runes. Diana and I had elected to be less ambitious, taking Arithmancy and Care of Magical Creatures only.

"Have you ever seen a magical creature?" I asked Diana.

"Only the pests," Diana said. "Doxies, gnomes. All pretty ugly, if you ask me. Hopefully we'll get to deal with some creatures that are actually decent for once."

"What's a doxy?"

"Ugh." Diana made a face. "Tiny black things that can fly, covered in hair. Poisonous, too, so you have to be careful around them. There was a nest of them in my aunt's attic one time. Nightmare, that was."

"Not while we eat, please," Emma said jokingly. "Come on." She leaned in a little, beckoning us to do the same. "What did you think of that Hagrid?"

Upon hearing the name, I resisted the urge to sit up and look. I shrugged. "He looks big, but he's probably nice, right?"

"What do you think, Tom?"

His face was bored as he answered. "I don't care what he's like. As long as he doesn't bother me, I won't have a problem with him."

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for not having updated in so long; school overcame me for the entire month of November. Anyway, we're back at Hogwarts in Evelyn and Tom's third year. **


	18. Part II: Chapter 2 – Under Fire

**Chapter 2**

**...**

As usual, it was easy to fall back into the pace of school. I knew I was less than halfway through my time at Hogwarts, but I still felt like a veteran of sorts. I knew how all the teachers operated (or at least, the teachers of the core subjects), I knew what time and what day the staircases would decide to move, and I knew which seat in the common room was comfiest and also warmest. And after these last few years, I had become significantly more fond of my wand as well.

All that I was bothered by was that I could not forget my dream.

At times I would even admit to myself I had not yet given up on it. For all that I had come to appreciate my own skills as a witch and all the luxuries magic afforded me, I could not destroy that tiny part of me that wished I was normal. Was it simply a byproduct of having grown an orphan, that it was natural to be hoping for parents for the rest of my life? Surely not, or Tom would be in the same situation as I. Dumbledore had been right, I acknowledged: Hogwarts had become like a family to me. But that nagging thought lingered…Hogwarts was a family because of community—not because of love. People did not love me here, at least not the way a parent loved a child.

I was, in a way, almost grateful for the war. It distracted me from my mind. It was difficult to be thinking so selfishly when daily reports were being flown in of the horrors that the Muggles were suffering.

"So what's on today?" I asked Diana, who was hidden behind the Daily Prophet. I waited as I buttered a piece of toast and then looked up questioningly when she did not reply. "Diana?"

Slowly, she lowered the paper. "London's being bombed," she said.

I set down my knife. "What?"

"And I have another letter from my parents. They're clearing out. There, look—" she said, turning the paper around. I scanned the article quickly. It was true: Germany was conducting air raids. London had been sustaining attacks for the last three straight days, with no sign of stopping from the Germans. The Ministry was frantically setting up safe-guarding spells to protect certain buildings, taking those high up in the Muggle government into hiding.

"But everyone else," I said, "where will they go? The Ministry can't help everyone…" A realization came upon me then. "Wool's—" I stopped, unable to speak anymore. Mrs. Cole, Martha, even Alice. Little Amy Benson. They were all still there. Or were they already dead?

"Evelyn?" Diana probed gently. When I didn't respond, she said, "I'm sure you would have heard if anything had happened."

_How?_ I wanted to ask. _They don't even know what I really am. Who at the Ministry would they know that could reach me? They'd probably just be found by the police, just a few more dead to be labeled._ I didn't think that even I would be able to send a letter—Muggle posts were probably abandoned or destroyed at this point.

I stood up abruptly. This was suffocating; I had to get out. As quickly as I could, I exited to the chamber outside the Great Hall. It was cooler here, but I immediately broke out into a sweat. I paced around, wringing my hands but it did no good. No, this was no good, the air was no good. I needed something with substance, something tangible, something—

"Does this work?" Tom suddenly appeared behind me, offering a spoon. He looked at it briefly and then back to me. I took it, relieved. Yes, it felt good to be able to have my hands on something that actually felt like it was there.

"Did you hear?" I said shortly, worrying the spoon as I spoke.

"You shouldn't worry about it," Tom said, by way of answer. "Wool's was never for us anyway."

"You don't care what happens to them?" I asked.

Tom didn't answer. He had to care, I thought. He might have had an odd way of showing it, but he did. I knew he did. Wool's was what he hated, not the people there…

"It's not us who's there," he said. "We have our own things to think about. If anything did happen…well, I'm sure Professor Dippet wouldn't just leave us to the streets, now would he? Something would work out." He gave me a small smile. "Want to go back?"

Tom's words were a little comfort, but I didn't feel much for returning back to my meal. "No, thanks. I think I'll just go back to the common room, if that's all right. Tell Diana?"

"Sure," Tom said. "I'd better take that with me, then." He held his hand out for a moment before I realized what he was referring to.

"Oh—right." I gave the spoon back and gestured at it feebly. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," he returned. "See you in Potions."


	19. Part II: Chapter 3 – En Garde

**Chapter 3 – En Garde**

**...**

"Fairies." Professor Kettleburn held one up for us to look at. "Vain little things they are. See how it is constantly grooming itself?" As we watched, it used its hands to smooth its hair down, its translucent wings fluttering rapidly.

Thus far in the school year, fairies were probably the most exciting creature we had yet to study. Before, we had looked at ramoras (pretty but not very interesting otherwise), auguries (useful but unattractive), and doxies and imps (annoying and bothersome all around). Fairies were the first creature we were seeing that seemed appealing in all senses. Professor Kettleburn, however, had made it clear that today would be business. After we all sketched a picture in our journals and jotted down the notes he had to tell us, Professor Kettleburn announced that we'd be aiding the school by clipping the wings of the fairies.

"Will it hurt them?" someone asked.

"No, but it will not please them, either. Everyone come forth and take a fairy. With your gloves on, please!"

Slowly, the class ambled up to Kettleburn's desk. Class was usually held outdoors, but with small creatures, it was in a classroom so as to minimize the risk of losing one of said creatures.

"Hold it at the waist, lightly," Professor Kettleburn instructed as students began to walk gingerly back to their tables. "Remember that anatomically, fairies are similar to humans. Make sure they can breathe." He demonstrated under a lens on his desk that projected the image onto the wall.

I held my hand out and had a fairy given to me. I carried it back to my desk before examining it carefully with a magnifying glass. The fairy that had been given to me must have been a girl, for she sported long brown hair and wore a dress of white flower petals. As I looked at her, I suddenly heard a high-pitched buzzing sound coming from the left of me. Tom was staring at his fairy with a slightly confused look on his face. I glanced down at his fairy, which looked not a little bit put out.

"What's wrong with it?" Tom asked, nonplussed for the first time in class.

"Maybe it doesn't like you," I suggested, giggling.

"Of course it doesn't like you," Diana joked from across the table. "You're as pretty as it is. Probably doesn't like the competition," she whispered playfully.

Tom blinked. "Oh, shut up," he said, but when he looked away I saw him smirking. I rolled my eyes.

Clipping fairies' wings was certainly the most technical Care of Magical Creatures had ever been, but it was still the easier of my two new classes. Arithmancy was a complex web of numbers and theories, of which I was still hopelessly lost with most of the time. Many nights Diana and I would stay up, trying to work out the newest chart Professor Elkins had set us, poring over whatever notes Tom had given to us before he went up for bed.

Even with his help, though, it was difficult. Tom's group of friends tended to stay up much later than he did. We rarely went a day without being pestered by Avery or Lestrange, or Dolohov or Nott. They what I imagined the stereotypical bothersome, young, teenage boy was: boorish, loud, and not entirely sensitive. Knowing how little Tom actually felt about them was relieving, but they were a bunch to contend with nonetheless.

Other than their tricks and annoying habits in the common room, though, this group of boys was just _mean_. I thought I had known meanness at Wool's through Alice, but Tom's group of followers were entirely merciless, and without the feeblest excuse to explain themselves. It was only natural, then, they go after the fresh meat.

I had been right about Myrtle Warren. Although we weren't in the same class and weren't even in the same year, tales about her misfortune were quick to reach the ears of just about every person in Hogwarts. Two weeks ago she slipped in the girl's bathroom. Yesterday her glasses fell into the potion she had been mixing. Such events were just bait. Given the chance, Tom's friend's would be quick to jump at it.

She had certainly been sorted correctly, at least. On my way down to lunch one day, I saw her struggling to carry a hefty amount of books with her to the Great Hall, enough of them so she had to look around the stack to not trip.

_Crash!_

A second later, books and girl were on the ground, and running off in howls of laughter were Dolohov and Avery, having snuck up from a side corridor and deliberately intercepted her path. I hurried over to her.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yes," Myrtle said. I was surprised at her voice—there was a hint of a sneer in it.

"Why are you carrying so many books with you?" I wanted to know, stacking a few of them. I stood up, half of them my burden now as we went on our way.

Her eyes flashed beneath her glasses. "What is it to you?"

Taken aback, I took a second to respond. "Nothing, I just was wondering," I said. "Were you going to the library? Are you returning some of these?"

Myrtle chewed on her lip, and then said, "You ask a lot of questions, don't you? Just give me those. I'll do whatever I want." Without another word, she grabbed the few books I was holding and marched off. I stood there blankly. She possessed a great deal of sharpness and hostility for an eleven-year-old. I recognized the behavior well enough; she was defensive from probably having been teased often. Still, I was miffed that she had spurned me so brusquely after I had come to her aid.

I sighed, swallowing my annoyance. Myrtle wasn't really the problem here, was she? I went into the Great Hall, immediately picking Dolohov and Avery out. I squared my shoulders and made for their direction.

"Hey. _Hey!_" I said, standing behind them. Avery turned, nudged Dolohov, and they both faced me.

"What's up, princess?" Dolohov said.

"I saw you trip that girl back there," I said, ignoring the moniker Tom's friends had decided on for me. "What'd she ever to you?"

The two boys exchanged looks and then burst out laughing. "Who do you think you're playing?" Avery managed.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped.

"Acting all high and mighty?" Avery said. He laughed a little longer and then cleared his throat. "Come off it, Spencer. We all heard her."

"Heard what?"

"Don't be daft," Dolohov said. "She completely blows you off and then you come storming in like some sort of guardian angel? It's all right—you're among friends. No need to act so perfect all the time, especially here."

I felt my face redden. Maybe we had been closer to the Great Hall that I had thought. So everyone in here had heard?

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" I said anyway.

Avery's eyes narrowed and he got to his feet. "Have someone in mind?"

Both boys were actually older, but I wasn't going to let that scare me. I stood my ground and just glared at them. "Not me, and not anyone here. You both are despicable," I hissed. Without another word, I turned on my heel and left.

_Brutes, the lot of them!_ I seethed, storming up to the common room. _Making fun of__ me like that in front of the whole Great Hall? Thinking they're so tough because they're bigger._

And friends with Tom?

I threw myself onto my bed and punched a pillow. He might have been top of our class, but he was a right idiot sometimes.

* * *

**A/N: Hello readers, apologies for not updating in a while. It's been a while since I've heard from you guys, so I'd really appreciate it if you could leave a review and let me know how I'm doing! I promise I'll update more if I know you guys are liking it :)**


	20. Part II: Chapter 4 – By the Statue

**Chapter 4**

**...**

I didn't see Dolohov or Avery again until dinner that day. "All right, Spencer?" Dolohov called loudly as I passed his spot.

I paused momentarily and surveyed the group of boys. Dolohov, Avery, and Mulciber opposite Tom, who sat in between Lestrange, Rosier, and Nott. Tom turned around, surprised. I supposed he'd never heard any of his group address me before. I glanced at him and then back at the others coolly. I lowered my gaze again, then, to Tom.

"Tom, forgive the inconvenience, but could you tell your friend I think he's a git?"

Tom's eyebrows raised slightly and he grinned a bit. "Sure."

"Thank you." I moved on, but not before I heard Tom choke back a laugh.

"Er—well, you heard her…"

"What's the matter?" Diana demanded as I sat down. "I haven't seen you all day."

"Oh, nothing," I said, annoyed. "Only those boys have been making fun of me; I wasn't about to give them the time of day."

"Idiots," Rachel said, helping herself to a baked potato. "Honestly, it's 1941. It's not like we're in the Dark Ages here, sometimes boys just need a right good smack upside the head. Want me to go—?"

"No, that's all right, thank you," I said quickly. Physical harm would likely just result in a detention. Although, I couldn't let the issue go either.

Luckily, I wasn't the only one who thought this. Tom was waiting next to a statue of a hunchbacked witch that was on the way back to the common room. "You guys go ahead," I said to the others.

"Okay," Diana said, giving me a look. She, Emma, and Rachel walked past. I waited until they were out of earshot before turning to face Tom.

"Yes?"

He raised his eyebrows, as if I was the one who had been loitering. "I had been under the impression it was you who wanted to tell me something."

I suddenly felt a jerk in my stomach. My courage failed. Yes, I had to tell him something, but I couldn't like this. I couldn't broach the subject myself. As I dithered, my hand reached upward unconsciously to feel the hard stone of the statue. Tom's eyes followed the movement.

"What was earlier all about anyway?" he said casually. "I didn't even know Dolohov knew your name."

"Well, I don't know if he does," I said automatically. "Not all of it, anyway."

"Ah hm." Tom paused for a moment. "So what happened exactly?"

I considered telling him of the incident with Myrtle, but he didn't need to know the details to understand, did he?

"We had a disagreement about how we should treat other people," I said, "which he thought he could use to embarrass me."

"Oh. So…everything all right?"

I frowned at his nonchalance. "No, Tom, it's not!" I said, a little angrily.

"Then what's the matter?" he said back. "Spit it out already."

I balled my hands into a fist. "Your friends, Tom! They're what's the matter, that you're always with them!"

Tom sighed. "I've told you," he said, "I don't really—"

"Then why keep going on with them?" I demanded. "You're better than all of them put together; it's only because of you that they get the guts to upset others. If you just ditched them—"

He shook his head. "I can't, Evelyn."

"Why not?"

"I need them," Tom replied simply. "No one else will approach me—"

"Because your friends are bullies!" I burst out exasperatedly.

"I know they are," Tom muttered. "I know. They're bullies, they're ignorant—but if not them, who?"

"Who…" I echoed. "What do you mean?"

"I tried," Tom said. "When we first came, to talk to as many people as I could. A lot of them—I don't know. It was like they were scared of me. Those guys are the only ones who didn't seem to be." He laughed shortly. "And anyway, I think they are too. They're just better at hiding it. But they're the only ones who would talk to me." A wry smile crept up on his face. "I like you, Evelyn, but I can't spend seven years just talking to the same girl, can I?"

_No, I suppose not,_ I agreed bitterly. Tom had been having trouble making friends? I wouldn't have doubted it at Wool's, but here? He wasn't different here. Why would someone be scared of him?

I remembered back to Christmas, to when we'd had a similar conversation. Tom had said then they weren't friends with the other boys. They annoyed him. Was Tom so desperate for companionship he'd accept it from people he didn't even like? I wanted to object, but I could understand a little of his rationale, to my frustration. Tom had been cold and hostile at Wool's, so of course he had no friends. Then he came here, without the burden of being an outcast, expecting things would change…and they didn't. Still being avoided, still alone. It would be natural to welcome anyone who was willing to approach him.

But why did it have to be _them?_ I looked back at him and pressed my lips together. "Can you at least try to make them shape up a little? Seeing as they..._respect_ you so much."

Tom let out a scoffing laugh. "So you noticed as well? It's really quite pathetic, especially from the older ones. Very well, I'll keep an out," he conceded. "Since you asked."

I sighed. "Thank you."

I wasn't sure what Tom said to his gang, if anything at all, but things did change. Less jeering, more dirty looks. I contented myself to imagining twisting them up like a wet cloth and wringing them dry.

There was soon less and less time to dwell on these matters, though. The first leaves were turning to their autumn colors. In years past, this would have meant nothing to me, but when I saw the hint of yellow in the trees, I felt a leap of excitement: Hogsmeade visits would be commencing soon.

The first was the third Saturday of October, just in time for Halloween. Diana and I waited in line as our permission slips were checked by the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle. I ran my finger over the crease in mine. It had been easy to get Mrs. Cole to sign it. She hadn't even raised an eyebrow at the town name.

A poke in the back made me step forward. I put my slip into Pringle's craggy hand and he swept it once over with his wand. The black ink from Mrs. Cole's pen shined emerald green, and Pringle grunted. He tucked the piece of paper into a folder and pointed for me to move on. When Diana was also approved, we strolled happily out.

After a spell of walking, we could finally see Hogsmeade not too far. I could see after we had set food on the main street that looked like the the quintessential English country town: snug cottages sporting glazed window glasses, hand-painted signs displayed outside shops, but most distinctively—

"What is that?" I asked, sniffing. It was the most delectable scent I'd ever smelled, thick even in the sharp air. Sweet and rich, but the most obvious was one that I couldn't quite name. It was definitely familiar…

Diana grabbed my arm in excitement. "It must be butterbeer!"

"Butterbeer?" I repeated.

"Mm," Diana said. "Mum says it's the most famous thing they have here. Oh, where do they sell it…?"

"Here?" We had stopped outside a large restaurant, full of people and chatter.

The Three Broomsticks this place was. I warmed my hands over a candle on the table until Diana returned with two mugs. I took one. The same wonderful aroma was emanating from it, but I was suddenly wary. It was a golden color and topped with white foam.

"Is there real beer in this, do you think?" I asked, peering at the mug.

Diana gave me an incredulous look and then grinned. "Boy, you sure are goody-two-shoes, aren't you?" She took an enormous gulp and breathed out satisfactorily. "Ah, don't worry, Evelyn. Even if there is alcohol in it, it's just a drop."

I swapped my gaze between her and the mug in front of me several times before cautiously taking a sip myself, pleasantly surprised at the taste. It warmed me immediately, from the path down my throat all the way to my extremities. The taste was so divine I was embarrassed to having almost refused it just a second before. But when I looked up, my thoughts vanished as I burst out laughing at the impressive foam mustache Diana now sported proudly with a grin.


	21. Part II: Chapter 5 – Nothing

**Chapter 5 – Nothing**

**...**

_January 1941_

The holidays were over, but all of Hogwarts remained blanketed in a deep layer of snow. I had heard that it was part of the magic of the school, that the snow persisted all throughout January. I didn't mind necessarily since it _was_ nice to look at, but it did make Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures two periods of class that no one could quite enjoy properly, on account of being exposed to the cold for an hour straight.

On our first day of Care of Magical Creatures back from the holiday, though, we were met with a surprise. Standing next to Professor Kettleburn was Rubeus Hagrid, the enormous first year. Mutterings broke out in the group.

"Come on, now, get close!" Professor Kettleburn called impatiently, seeing us all hang back slightly. He flicked his wand and a small bonfire erupted in front of him. We all scooted forward to feel the heat.

"Good. Well, you all see obviously that this term we've made some changes within the department. I'm sure you all know Hagrid, yes?" Professor Kettleburn asked. There were some general sounds of confirmation. "Good, good. He's going to be helping out in class from now on. Excellent hand he has with the animals, haven't you, Hagrid?"

"If yeh say so, Professor," Hagrid replied modestly, but I saw his eyes shine a little with pride.

"Now, he's not a professor so he won't be teaching, but believe me when he knows a good deal about what we'll be working with, and you might take heed of his advice, hm?"

At the silence that followed, I felt a little prickle. I didn't mind much, but I couldn't answer for my other classmates. Surely Kettleburn realized who was talking to? I glanced quickly to my side. Tom was too close to me for me to properly see his face, but further along were a few of his gang, their expressions surly. I turned back quickly. No chance they'd be pleased about a first year in such a position, much less an oddity like Hagrid.

That was something else, though. _Why_ was this happening? I supposed there must have been some sort of chain of command this went through, but if Hagrid was here now, it had obviously passed and had Dippet's approval. Was it extra credit?

"Right!" Professor Kettleburn clapped his hands together once, jolting me out of my thoughts. "Let's get started, shall we?" He waved his wand again. The flames we were standing around extinguished in a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, there was a large crate in place of the fire. Scuttling around the crate were numerous turtle-like creatures.

"Stand back," Professor Kettleburn warned, though he himself stepped closer. He unlatched the top and picked one of the creatures up, waving his wand once over in it in a rectangular pattern. In the air in front of us appeared a projected image of the creature. "We'll be working with these for the next few days," Professor Kettleburn said. "Fire crabs. Docile little things, once you know how to handle them. Notice the jewel-encrusted shell?"

As he spoke, the image in the air zoomed in to the brilliant colored jewels that decorated the shell. "Certain varieties will exhibit only certain jewels, rubies or emeralds, for instance, and in bigger sizes as well. Here we just have a common fire crab. Now if we look a little closer…come on, now, _closer_," he said again, a little impatiently, as the image hesitated. It zoomed in some more to one of the jewels. "The jewels are like teeth. They grow and grow and grow, and then new ones start to push the mature ones out. Aren't worth much, but can be used in potions, medicine, things like that."

Not for nothing they were called fire crabs, either. After casting a protective spell over everyone, Professor Kettleburn sent a stream of sparks towards the crab he was holding: a small conflagration erupted from its end, blazing for several seconds before dying out. This was their primary defense mechanism, Professor Kettleburn explained. Gloves and goggles were to be worn at all times when working with them (he wasn't), and it wasn't a bad idea to always try to stand in front of them, either.

After checking that we were all wearing safety equipment, Professor Kettleburn and Hagrid began to assign us all a specific crab. We were told that they could actually be quite gentle creatures, once they got to know a person. Our task was to, by the end of the week, earn the trust well enough to be able to extract older jewels off the shell.

Today we worked on feeding. Food was distributed among us, and Hagrid demonstrated how to best prepare it and give it to the crab, but it was more difficult than it appeared. Professor Kettleburn explained that their sense of smell and sight were poor, so it was naturally a very touchy creature. Anything moving towards it seemed to register to the fire crab as a threat. It was lucky that we were able to spot smoke so we could hastily stop with the nudging. I don't think there was a single person who walked away without some part of their cloak singed, even Tom.

Professor Kettleburn was right, though. Somewhere between the feeding and cleaning, the fire crabs slowly began to be less wary, at least to their specific caretaker. Tom, ever the ambitious one, had trained his to be able to roll over in a complete turn. Mine let me carry it in my arms, but we all had our own special bond with our assigned crabs.

As such, we came to class on Friday rather excited to finally be able to relieve the fire crabs of their mature jewels. All of us were given a small scalpel-like tool, which Professor Kettleburn showed us how to use while Hagrid demonstrated the best way to hold the fire crab so it would stay still.

"Gently is the key," Professor Kettleburn advised, as he walked in between us as we got to work. "It does not hurt, but you still want to be careful!"

I shaved away at the jewels methodically, depositing them into the designated bowl one at a time. When I got near to done, I slowly picked my fire crab up and inspected it all around. There was one particularly stubborn jewel near its front foot that I had been working on for some time and couldn't quite get. I looked round. Most students had finished, or just about. Professor Kettleburn was a few rows off, helping another boy. Closer to me—

"Hagrid?" I asked.

"Yeah?" He turned around and squeezed his way between two tables to me.

I held my fire crab. "There's a jewel here, I can't quite get it off. Should I leave it alone?"

Hagrid looked and nodded. "Yeah, best do. Looks like it ready ter come off, but they don' always want to. Other wise, yeh did good."

I smiled. "Thanks. I'll just go clean up now." I put my fire crab back in its cage, making sure it was secure before getting up and pouring the contents of my bowl into the main collection. I was splashing my hands in a pail of water to rid them of the leathery smell from my protective gloves when a felt a bump from behind, knocking me into the pail. I looked around. Of course it was one of Tom's cronies, Rosier. I followed him with my gaze, seeing him peering into the various cages and criticizing the end results for all to hear.

When he stopped in front of my stool, I narrowed my eyes. He took an irritatingly long time inspecting my fire crab from behind the bars of the cage before he stood up straight, looked over at me, and sneered. I made a face back at him. What was with that look? I flicked the water off my hands and made towards him, unable to take his smugness.

"Wouldn't have thought it of you, princess!" Rosier said loudly, as I approached. I saw Hagrid, who was coming through the lines to add some water to the cages, turn around at the sound. I stopped, a few feet away from Rosier. "You missed a spot, you know," he said.

"I'm perfectly aware," I ground out. "It wouldn't come off."

Rosier raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Want me to try?" Before I could move, he unlocked the cage and reached inside; I saw my fire crab inside retreat to the corner—

"Don't—!" Impulsively, I started forward to make him move.

I was suddenly on the ground, looking up at a few people. It registered to me that I was fully conscious and more or less functional, other than my thoughts. I could only think of a great torture resonating from my left arm. Someone was pointing their wand at it; it must have been Professor Kettleburn. I searched the group of people around me, now just faces floating above.

"Tom…?" I managed, finally finding him.

"Just a burn," he said, his voice soothing. "Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to—" I was cut off by a sharp, spasm, one that made me realize the initial shock was wearing off and being replaced with the violent agony. There was a constant searing, stabbing pain that only increased as I became more aware of what was happening. I dared to roll my head to the side and saw my arm, a raw red and already blistering. I turned my head back to the sky, closing my eyes tightly. I felt myself beginning to tremble, but it wasn't enough to distract me. I let out a groan, arching my back, desperate to just wrench my arm off then and there, anything to get rid of the pain.

"Professor...?" Tom muttered something more, but the words were hazy and floated in and out. I couldn't focus on much other than the pain.

"One more moment, Riddle." I guessed that the professor was doing magic to help the burn, but it didn't feel like it. At last I heard some scraping sounds, and next I felt myself being lowered onto a light pallet.

"Riddle, will you go with her?"

"Yes, professor."

"Everyone, if you please…"

I felt the pallet begin to move, slow at first and then more quickly. "Where're we going—" I muttered.

"It's all right," Tom said quietly. "We're going to the hospital wing, they'll be able to help you there."


	22. Part II: Chapter 6 – The Hospital Wing

**Chapter 6 – The Hospital Wing**

...

"Madam Abbey? Madam Abbey!"

Footsteps hurried towards us.

"Fire crab burn. Professor Kettleburn took care of it immediately after, but can you—"

Unexpectedly, someone lifted my arm, sending pangs to my very core. I let out a cry and tried to jerk it back, but the grip, though gentle, was also firm.

"You can leave her here overnight. Wait here, I'll go prepare a bed for her." Footsteps retreated.

"…All right, then. Evelyn, you're in the hospital wing now. Madam Abbey will fix you up."

I finally opened my eyes and looked around. I had never been here before. Clean white beds, surrounded by clean white curtains and clean white walls. It looked much like the Muggle doctor's office I went to for check ups, though this place had at least less of a sterile feel to it. From the sound of it, there were only a few other people here.

I shook my head. "No, I—I don't want you to go."

"You're not going to die," Tom pointed out. I heard a hint of his usual biting tease. "You'll be fine—"

"Fine, fine," I interrupted, not willing to fight. "Will you tell Diana where I am?"

"If I see her," Tom promised. "Here's Madam Abbey again. I'll be back soon, all right?"

I gave him a small nod, which he returned. "Thank you," he said to Madam Abbey, and he was gone.

"You're lucky Professor Kettleburn knows a few things about healing," Madam Abbey said sternly as she transferred me to a bed. "Fire crab burns are a nasty thing, but they're at least straightforward. Drink this." She gave me a glass of a pure black liquid, but I was too exhausted to think about the awful taste it was bound to have. I downed it in one gulp. Next to me, Madam Abbey was patting a salve along my forearm, coating it well.

"We'll leave that on until tomorrow. Now sleep," she commanded, not unkindly. Another wave of her wand, and my arm was suddenly hanging a little ways from me. She walked away and I wanted to complain that I wouldn't be able to sleep with my arm hanging above me, but I couldn't summon the energy.

* * *

Whispers and mutters were floating around me. A girl's voice, along with a boy's. I forced my eyes open.

The hospital wing wasn't so white and bright now. Orange light spilled across the floor, yellow flickered up above. I felt groggy and inert.

"Evelyn?" The girl's voice sounded.

I turned my head to the side. Diana and Tom were sitting next to the bed. I blinked once, their images coming more into focus.

"How do you feel?" Diana asked urgently. "Does it still hurt?"

I looked at my arm and, with some difficulty, extracted it from its suspension. It seemed to weigh much more than before; the salve Madam Abbey had applied had appeared to harden into a film. "Not as bad as it was," I said. My words sounded heavy and sluggish, like they were being dragged out of me. There was still some pain to my arm, but it was more bearable. "How long have you been here?"

"Half an hour," Tom said. "It's after dinner."

"Ah."

"So what happened?" Diana said.

"Just some stupid stuff," I replied. "Rosier was being a—well, it doesn't matter now. I guess I caught some of the flame of the fire crab." I pressed my free hand to my temple. "Sorry—I feel really tired right now."

"Should we let you rest?" Diana asked. "We just wanted to be around when you woke up."

"Probably," I admitted monotonously. "I'm not much for conversation right now. But thanks for staying so long."

Diana reached over and gave me a half hug. "Well, you just heal up fast, okay? I don't think I'll be able to last in Arithmancy without you."

"I'll make sure to rescue you soon," I said.

"Are you coming, Tom?" Diana asked.

"In a moment," the boy replied. "I'll see you back in the common room."

She paused only for a moment before nodding. "I'll be back tomorrow."

I waved at her as she turned around the corner. I watched the spot where she had been standing for a second longer. "Do you have something to say?" I said, not looking at Tom. When I finally did, I saw that he was frowning at the bed sheet. "I figure you must, or you wouldn't have stayed around?"

"I'm sorry this happened," he said abruptly, surprising me with how quickly he responded.

"W-well, it's all right," I said, managing a smile. "It'll heal soon, don't worry."

"No, it's not that." Tom shook his head, his eyes lowered. "It shouldn't have happened at all. It shouldn't have happened," he repeated.

I didn't say anything, not quite grasping his meaning. "Accidents happen," I began. "Really—"

"Hagrid should have prevented it," Tom interrupted, his voice harsh. "I saw from the water station; he was practically right next to you. He should have done something."

I didn't want Hagrid to be dragged into this. In the pit of my stomach, I felt a knot growing. "He wasn't that close," I said slowly. "Besides, Rosier's the one to really blame; he was so quick—" I faltered and broke off, uncomfortable. Tom's face was dark: it sparked a prickle of disquiet within me.

"He's supposed to be an assistant, isn't he? He could have at least called Kettleburn over," Tom continued. "Or warned you."

"I really don't think it's his fault," I said quietly. You shouldn't blame him."

Tom finally raised his head and looked at me intently. "I don't trust him," he said flatly. "All he proved today is that he's unworthy of the position he's been given."

"He's just there to help—!" I protested.

"Exactly," Tom agreed. "And still here you are. Wouldn't you think two people on hand in a class would mean fewer accidents?"

I remained silent. It was useless to reason with Tom when he was in this state.

He stood up presently. "I'll go now so you can sleep." I still did not speak, only looked at him. When he turned away, I fell back onto my pillow, staring up at the ceiling, my mind whirling. Suddenly I sprang up.

"Tom—_Tom!_" I exclaimed.

He stopped where he was and faced me. "Yes?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I don't want you to take this out on anyone," I said seriously. "No one who was in class today. And not Hagrid, either," I said after a pause. "You understand? I mean it."

I imagined how ridiculous I must have looked, in a hospital bed and a general mess, but speaking as if I were King George. For a moment, I was afraid Tom would laugh, but he only nodded. I knew that I would have no way to make sure he kept his word, and that I would only have trust.

* * *

I was wrong, though. I was able to make sure he kept his word after all.

After Tom left, Madam Abbey bustled in with my meal for the evening. I finished it quickly, the day's events having made me hungry, but as soon as the tray was removed, I felt a great wash of drowsiness come over me and let myself be pulled under, though it was still earlier than I would have normally slept.

I didn't wake up until the next day, squinting against the return of the of the room's washed-out brightness. To my surprise, another visitor was sitting next to the bed.

"Hagrid!" I exclaimed, struggling to sit up. "I—I wasn't expecting you!"

He dipped his head bashfully. "Well, I jus' wanted ter see how yeh're doin' is all."

I smiled at him. "I'm doing fine, thank you."

He nodded once, seriously. "Tha's—tha's good," he said, still nodding. "Doesn' hurt?"

"Not as much," I said.

He just kept nodding his head, like he was trying to convince himself. "I jus' feel awful about it all," he blurted out. "Honest, I—"

"Don't worry about it," I interrupted him firmly. "It wasn't your fault, Hagrid. I know it wasn't."

The younger boy looked at me, slightly shocked, it seemed, until his face crinkled into a grin I returned. But it faded at something else dawned one me.

"Hagrid, no one's been giving you trouble about this, have they?" I asked softly.

His face appeared confused. "No, haven' heard anything like that."

I relaxed. "Good, I was—" I broke off, not wishing to voice my suspicions about Tom. More than that, however, I had just seen from behind Hagrid's large frame Tom enter the hospital wing. I felt my face drop a little bit as I watched him come to stand on the opposite side of the bed from where Hagrid was.

"Morning," he said to me, his eyes fixed on Hagrid, who was now studying the threads of my blanket. "This is the homework from Transfiguration and Potions," Tom went on, still looking at Tom, unblinkingly, until he finally turned his gaze to me as he handed me the papers.

"Oh—thank you," I said, accepting them. I laid them on my lap and looked anxiously between the two boys.

"How lucky you are, Hagrid," Tom said loudly after a moment. "I thought it was only sixth and seventh years who were given free periods in their day. But I guess you've been given more than one privilege." His voice was sharp and cutting in the silence of the hospital wing.

There was a scrape as Hagrid pushed his chair out. Without giving me a second glance, he got up heavily and made to leave.

"Thank you for coming to see me, Hagrid," I said impulsively, as he was half way to the door. I couldn't let him walk away after such a cold dismissal. He stopped half turned around towards me. "It was nice to see you."

"Jus' glad to hear it," Hagrid said, a hint of happiness spreading on his face before quickly exiting.

I turned to Tom defiantly, who was looking after Hagrid. "I didn't say anything about it," he said.

He hadn't, I had to concede. But I still didn't like the way he had treated Hagrid.

"By the way," I said pointedly, "do you have a free period yourself?"

"No," Tom said shortly. "I just swung by to drop this off for you. Won't matter if I'm late to Charms, though."

"Well, you should probably be off anyway," I said. "You might be best in class, but you wouldn't want to tarnish that with your attendance." My voice was light, though I was still put off.

"I suppose not," Tom agreed. "See you later."

Later that day, Madam Abbey came to wash my arm off of the hardened salve from the last day. I couldn't rightly remember what my skin there had looked like before, but it must have been bad because after a night of medication, it was still relatively blistered. When I made to scratch, she slapped my hand away briskly and promptly covered my arm with bandages again, though there must have been some magic in them to alleviate the itch, thankfully.

I was discharged afterward, told to unwrap my arm the next day and apply a lotion every night until it was completely healed.

"Are you sure?" I asked, forgetting I was talking to a professional and probably insulting her ability then.

"Quite, quite," Madam Abbey assured me. "There's some strong stuff in those bandages. And if it doesn't feel right, just come by and I'll have a look-see. Needn't worry, dearie," she said, at my doubtful look. "We aren't like the Muggles. We can heal anything."

And I took my leave quickly.


	23. Part II: Chapter 7 – Thinking Out Loud

**A/N: Sorry for not updating in forever...I promise I haven't forgotten about this story. **

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Thinking Out Loud**

I woke up to the sound of a newspaper being rustled. It was a familiar sound, but it was unaccompanied, isolated from the normal morning murmur of the Great Hall. My eyes flickered open and I managed to sit up stiffly, my arm left arm still partially immobile.

The room was dark, but from behind the heavy curtains of the bed, I saw a floating orb of light. Fumbling, I pulled the curtains apart and looked around. The light was coming from Rachel's bed. Through the gap, I could see her sitting crosslegged, reading something.

"Rachel?" I whispered into the quiet. "What are you doing?"

The light quivered, and then the curtain separated fully, revealing Rachel behind the _Daily Prophet_, I realized. The tip of her wand was shining, its illumination falling onto more papers that were spread out on her blanket: I recognized the _Daily Market_ and _The Times_. Those were Muggle newspapers.

"What's going on?" I said. "Did something happen?"

Her face was startled at first, then relaxed, but only marginally. "No—not really," she said softly, shrugging. "Er…" Her hands twisted together in her lap nervously. "Well—I'm Jewish," she blurted out. "My family is, I mean. I don't know if you knew already? Anyway, I've just been hearing news about things happening to the Jews in Germany and Poland."

"Bad things?" I guessed.

Rachel nodded. "Well, it's hard to be sure. They're only rumors right now, really. But my mum and dad are sending me the Muggle newspapers, since the _Prophet_ doesn't report on it much. I didn't want to read them this morning, since everyone else was there…A lot of people are being rounded up and being sent away." She shrugged again, almost twitchily. "I don't know. I'm just—worried. I mean, no one I know lives where everything is going on, but…"

She didn't have to finish her sentence for me to understand. It had to be difficult regardless, since she was so far away from the circumstances with little means to act. Even with only half of her face lit, I could see she was troubled. Before I could speak, though, Rachel had folded the papers up and thrown them to the bottom shelf of her bedside table.

"It's nothing," she said, sounding more like she was convincing herself than me. "Sorry for waking you up," she said distractedly, and her wand went out. We were plunged into blackness again. Hand on the curtain, Rachel paused. "Evelyn…don't tell anyone anything? I'd like it more if no one else knew."

I nodded. "I won't say anything."

Her face looked relieved and she returned the gesture slightly, then pulled the curtain around again. I could hear Rachel move around a little in her bed, and then nothing. I wondered if she had truly gone back to bed, or if she was kept up by her thoughts. I knew the feeling well enough, but the room became so quiet that I assumed she must have fallen asleep again, or was at least trying to. Shifting my pillow, I tried to follow her example, but it was no good now that I was roused, along with the twinging I still felt from my arm. After several minutes, I eased myself up, felt around for my dressing gown, and padded out into the common room. Even at this late hour, a roaring blaze was still burning strongly in the hearth. The lapping of water from the lake outside was a nice accompaniment to the snapping fire. Its leaping flames showed the place to be deserted, with the exception of one. I could tell immediately by the dark, bent head that it was Tom. I rounded the sofa.

"Why are you up?"

Tom looked up and registered me. "I could ask you the same."

I didn't say anything response, instead letting my arms rest against the leather. Ever observant, he caught sight of my fingers tapping slightly against the fabric. "Going to sit down?" he questioned casually.

Again, I had nothing to say in return. I wasn't sure even with myself if I was still annoyed and angry with him for how he had treated Hagrid earlier—

"Look, if this is about what I said at the Hospital Wing, I'm sorry, all right?" I glanced up at him. An explicit apology from Tom was rare. "I was just worked up; I was out of line. I…I know it wasn't Hagrid's fault, of course it wasn't."

"I'm glad to hear it," I said. "But Hagrid probably should too—"

"I doubt he'll want to hear it from me," Tom interrupted. "Maybe you can pass on the message to Rubeus for me."

The usage of Hagrid's first name startled me. It had been pointed, I noticed. Perhaps an effort to be more friendly towards Hagrid. Even so, I still hesitated, thinking it'd be better for Tom to straighten things up himself. "Please," he said, seeing my pause. "I'd mess it up, I know I would. You're better than me at that sort of thing."

I couldn't help but agree, so I nodded, glad to have done with the issue soon. Tom's eyes flickered to my arm. "How is it?" he wondered, gesturing with a jerk of his chin towards it.

I glanced briefly down at it and touched it absently. "All right. Rachel woke me up, not this. What's your excuse?"

"I don't have one," Tom replied. "Only that I wanted to read this." He held up a volume: _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. I made a face.

"Why are you reading that?" I said. "And so late at night too."

Tom looked surprised. "What's the fact that it's night got to do with it?"

"Well—nothing," I said, equally taken aback. "But don't you think that's a bit creepy? Reading about such bad stuff alone in the dark in an old creaky castle?"

"It's quite interesting," Tom insisted. "And there's a lot about Slytherin in here. I figured I ought to know some more about him if I'm in his house, right?"

"We learn about him in History of Magic," I muttered, plucking at the hem of my sleeve.

"True," Tom conceded. "But I'd like to know more." He set the book on his lap and regarded me. I felt his eyes, as intense as they ever was, and dropped my hand to return his gaze. For a long time, he said nothing, but I grew prickly nonetheless, like the pops and crackling noises from the fire were being applied to my neck. Why did Tom always have to stare so?

"Do you think this war will ever end?" Tom said suddenly.

That wasn't the direction I had expected him to go. "I don't know," I said hesitantly. "It must eventually, right?" It was a weird question to ask. We were only a little over a year into it; it wasn't as if we had been living with it for a decade. The Great War had lasted four years, just a fraction of wars that had been fought in the past. Whatever war was on now couldn't be greater than the war that was supposed to end all wars, could it? What was Tom implying now, acting like this one now was going to last on forever?

"All the terror, the fighting…it makes you think, doesn't it?" When I didn't answer, Tom said, "Well, it does me, at least. Strange that the Muggles are so bent are destroying themselves. No wonder they're so backward."

"Muggles can't be the only ones involved," I argued. "I'm sure there are just as bad wizards out there, as bad as that Hitler."

Tom smirked. "You think?"

"I'm sure of it. A man like him couldn't be where he is now if he didn't have help. Why couldn't he be a wizard? If our Prime Minister knows about magic, Hitler probably does too. He could have asked them to join him," I reasoned.

"Evil wizards…" Tom said. "I guess it's not impossible."

I stood up, slightly upset now, but confusedly so. "Why don't you think about something else?"

"Oh no, no," Tom said, waving a hand. "I'm not spending days on this. I'm just curious. All the worst crimes in history have been committed by Muggles, is all. I'm not saying wizards haven't done bad things, but Muggles are much more accomplished in that field than we are. Of course there are wizards out there who have some evil and cruelty in them. It only makes me wonder if wizards are capable of as _much_ evil and cruelty." He paused, his eyes sliding to the fire. I saw the flames reflected in those dark pupils of his. Then he met my gaze again. "Do you think they are?"

I looked at him. "They are humans too, aren't they?" I said after a moment. "I guess they could be. But I would hope no one would choose to be evil."

"It's only thanks to those who are evil that we have those who are good, though, right?" Tom said.

"I hope not," I replied stoutly. "Why can't people just be good? And if we all follow each other's examples, then the entire world would be good."

To this, Tom didn't quite laugh, but his smirk grew more pronounced, augmenting his handsome features with an air of arrogance. "You don't think that's a bit simplistic?" he said.

In myself, I knew it was, but I that didn't stop me from wishing that it could happen. We were all our own best resources, weren't we? Depended on each other, learned from each other, gave to and received from each other. But then, I could understand why Tom would believe the opposite. He was such a solitary figure. He didn't need anyone else to live, whereas me—whereas me, when I thought about my life, it was when I had been solitary, alone at Wool's, that I had thought myself the most miserable.

* * *

**A/N: You guys are probably wondering why Evelyn is in Slytherin...I'm hoping this chapter and the few chapters also might explain a little more; if you don't see it, focus more on her views in regards to relationships between people since that's what I've tried to emphasize the most so far. That's all I'll say for now because hopefully the writing is clear enough for itself to explain her House placement. You'll see more Slytherin in her in future chapters also. **


	24. Part II: Chapter 8 – Summer Sickness

**Chapter 8 – Summer Sickness**

**...**

The week of exams came upon us very quickly after a period of laxness. Summer had just arrived too, though, as May warmed into June, and Diana and I took no time in reclaiming our favorite spot under the willow tree by the lake to study on the weekends.

"Only five more days," Diana sighed, laying on her back and inspecting a flower she pinched in between her fingers. "Then we're free."

My skin prickled at her words, and I glanced down at the number chart I had been working on for Arithmancy. It was still my most difficult class, but over the months I had been improving gradually. I was sure, given enough time, it would become less challenging, but I doubted five days was sufficient.

Perhaps more glaringly, five more days meant only five more days until I returned to Wool's. I realized that unlike before, I couldn't say for certain whether I was looking forward to it or not. Yes, it would be nice to indulge in some Muggle sweets and have a room to myself again, but more and more I found myself thinking of myself as separate from Wool's. I had only had two returns so far, but it seemed every time that everyone was growing up so quickly, especially the little ones. They were wary around me—not that we had ever been particularly close, but I remembered playing with them sometime before their primary schooling began. Now they regarded me with nervous skittishness. And I know I hadn't changed so much physically that it was a problem of recognition.

I wondered if what I was feeling now towards Wool's was what Tom had felt his entire life there. Not quite belonging, but not having anywhere else to go, and all the while everyone around him didn't seem to quite know what to do with him.

In any case...

I guessed nothing like that really mattered anymore. Not really. We were happy at Hogwarts, and then spent a few months back in London. A happy flush spread throughout me when I realized my own thoughts. I really was happy at Hogwarts, loved being able to spend time with my friends and learn more magic, even if those lessons did sometimes go awry, I thought dryly. It hadn't occurred to me until just then that I hadn't thought about my old dream in months.

Because I didn't care anymore?

No, that wasn't it. I knew I still wanted a family. But I supposed my old insistence of it being of a mother and father had been worn down. I remembered the first conversation I had with Dumbledore, nearly three years ago now, back in my small room at the orphanage.

_"But you aren't alone. You won't be different at Hogwarts."_

He'd been right, after all.

And I had become more cynical myself.

I knew from my own experiences. I had a routine. There was a cover-up. I came back to Wool's after a year at my own "special" school, as Mrs. Cole would explain to the other children. Then when the summer ended, I would go back. There had been one disruption in that pattern, that time the Monroes came, and it had ended in me still not being chosen. After twice going through this cycle, it seemed that I wasn't even really an orphan anymore. Just someone who happened to use the building as some bleak summer flat. And people were looking for orphans to adopt, not tenants.

I pushed the thought from my mind. No use dwelling on it now, especially when I had come to terms with it all. Instead I pulled the heavy Arithmancy textbook onto my lap. "Five more days of studying," I reminded my friend. Even as I spoke, though, and pulled out my latest number chart, I was happy to discover that in between the days I had spent filling it out and now, I was still able to more or less understand it. It appeared that the hours I had spent slaving away over making sure it was perfect and scouring my notes had paid off. There was something immensely satisfaction at being able to gain some insight of the future through all these numbers, feeling pride in being able to excel in a notoriously difficult subject, even if what we were predicting now was largely inconsequential—what the weather would be like in a week, or who would receive a letter at the next breakfast.

Five days went by quickly, however, and the period of exams even quicker. Summer had well and truly infected Hogwarts by now, the impatient waiting for the holidays making everyone restless, particularly since it stayed light out so long. If it were not for our eight o'clock curfew, I would have spent it all outside. I looked upon the older students with envy, who gleefully took their leave from the Great Hall immediately after dinner had ended and didn't return until an hour after us.

"Don't be too jealous," Emma said on one occasion as she watched my eyes follow a gaggle of girls out the common room. "It's not all fun and games being a seventh year."

"What do you mean?"

"They've spent the entire year studying for their NEWTs," Emma explained. "All that pent up energy has to go somewhere. I expect that's why they have a later curfew than us younger students."

"NEWTs?" I repeated.

"Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests," Diana said, who was listening in. "You take them in seventh year to help you get jobs after graduating."

"You have to?"

"Mm. Well, unless you don't want to work in the Wizarding world, I suppose," Emma conceded. "Maybe if you wanted to get a Muggle job, but that's pretty rare. I've never heard of anyone doing that."

"Do you take them in every subject?"

"No, just ones that you get an OWL in, which is another test. We'll take those in fifth year. If there's something you might want to take a NEWT in, you just want to make sure you get an E or above in that OWL."

It hadn't even occurred to me that we might have to take these sorts of tests at some point, but I suppose it only made sense. Moreover, I had never given any thought to what I wanted to do when I got older. I was hardly at the age when I needed to have any real idea, but what _did_ I want to do? I remembered Diana saying she wanted to be an Auror, which seemed to be a popular choice. If I studied likewise, Diana and I could continue to stay close, but I wasn't sure if I wanted that sort of lifestyle.

There wasn't much time to dwell on it, though. In the intervening few days between the end of exams and leaving Hogwarts, we were kept busy with final trips to Hogsmeade, cleaning our rooms, and beginning the slow, agonizing process of packing our things, though we were still quite lackadaisical about tracking whatever possessions we had lost—they always turned up clean on our beds when we returned the next year.

* * *

The mood at breakfast on the final day was somber. While we ate our eggs and bacon, we knew everyone's trunks were being loaded back onto the Hogwarts Express for the journey back into London. I saw Tom briefly, his gang clustered around him as usual so I couldn't see his face well. I still felt a small surge of anger at the sight of that motley group who somehow had won Tom's favor, but I suppressed it, determined not to let them ruin the final day at Hogwarts before the holiday.

I had discovered over the years, however, no matter how much I attempted to stay positive at the end of the year, there was nonetheless a cloud. Whenever someone asked me what I was doing for the summer, I shrugged nonchalantly and answered, "Not much," and the conversation hung awkwardly there for a moment. Meanwhile, my peers seemed to have all sorts of exciting activities planned each year. Emma would be attending flying camp with the hopes of trying out for the Quidditch team next year, and Diana was even traveling all the way to the United States to see her cousin graduate from an American wizarding school. My holiday prospects were whatever Mrs. Cole decided.

Things were what they were, though. On the train back to King's Cross, I emptied my pocketbook of all the money I had to purchase as many snacks from the food trolley as I could stuff into my rucksack, taking care to buy a few Cauldron Cakes for Tom as well. I passed them silently to him in the car drive back to Wool's after we had been picked up by Mrs. Cole, who now was rambling vaguely about everything she needed to do.

* * *

**A/N: That's it for Part II! There will be a very short Interlude (just one chapter) to cover the events briefly before Evelyn and Tom begin their fifth years. Please leave a review to let me know what you think!**


	25. Interlude: Chapter 1 – Changes

**INTERLUDE**

**Chapter 1 – Changes**

**...**

The door snapped behind me. As it did, a heavy thud sounded as I lay my trunk down on its side at the foot of my bed. Folded on the mattress were freshly-laundered sheets, blanket, and pillow case. I remembered the sensation from twice before, but the thinness I felt as I skimmed my fingers over them was jarring compared to the rich fabrics I was used to.

A light breeze made me look up. Someone, probably Martha, had opened the window. It struck me then how I had not opened a window in my bedroom for years now—seeing as the bedchamber would immediately flood with lake water if I did. The thought amused me.

I spent the intervening hours between when the door closed and dinner emptying my trunk and making my bed fit for sleeping in again. It was quiet work; no one came in to say anything to me and I certainly had nothing to say out loud to myself. With the spare cakes I had bought on the train, I wrapped Tom's portions in the paper bag the trolley lady had given me, scrawled his name on it, and placed the parcel in front of his door without knocking. I had learned he preferred to be on his own at outset of the summer holidays.

He came down late to meals too, after the dining hall was a little emptier than at the start of the meal hour. Knowing this, I went downstairs as the clock struck six, prepared to sit by myself and quietly observe. I didn't mind being alone; other than Tom, I felt no real friendship with anyone at Wool's. I hadn't before when I was younger and the fact that I had been so often gone for so long these past three years with no contact just amplified the gulf. There had been always one person that I could count on in recognizing my reappearance, however...

I scanned the hall in search of her but she was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't like Alice to get sick, yet there wasn't a trace of her to be found. Could she have…?

"Where's Alice?" I dared to ask Mrs. Cole as she walked between us.

The look on her face morphed from surprised to sympathetic before she answered. "Why, she's gone. Adopted at last."

My mouth parted just slightly in shock. "Adopted?" I repeated. I felt a heavy weight drop somewhere within me. (In my heart or my stomach?) "When?"

"Last October," Mrs. Cole said. "Are you quite all right?"

I nodded faintly and our caretaker moved on. I turned back to my plate, blank. October, so long ago! Alice had said her final goodbye to Wool's only a month after I had said goodbye for the term. And now what? Where was she? Did she have fine clothes? Did she eat out at restaurants on the weekend? Did she have a puppy to play with? Was she living the dream? My dream?

I clenched my fists around the edge of the seat. I shouldn't have cared. I shouldn't have been so interested. I had never liked Alice. She had been a torment for as long as I could remember. And I also remembered that I had come to terms with the fact that I would likely never see myself in a home with a proper mother and father. Yet I couldn't suppress the bitter sadness I felt even then.

* * *

That summer was the dreariest summer yet. I found myself almost missing the constant taunting from Alice, whose absence now made my life at Wool's truly tedious. Monotony had set in by the second week.

Tom and I took to sitting under the big tree in the courtyard, a pale imitation of how we spent our lazy afternoons under the willow by the lake at Hogwarts. Tom threw rocks into the bushes while I read aloud passages from old dusty Muggle books that I could find in hidden around the building. At night, I paged through my textbooks—partly out of boredom, but also with the intent to refresh what I had learned the last year.

One mid-August morning, I woke up to a rapping on the window. I stretched my head to look up and around to see the silhouette tawny owl tapping its beak furiously against the glass. Throwing my blankets to the side, I pushed aside the curtains and lifted the frame. The owl had already dropped its envelope on the ledge outside, holding it down with one foot while sticking its other out, a collection pouch tied to it. I blinked at it for a moment before spinning around to find the payment. A few seconds' worth of searching the pockets yielded the required change, which I dropped into the pouch. With an aggravated look, the owl took off with a flourish, leaving my letter on the drop.

I broke the seal and pulled out the parchment, unsurprised to see it contained my booklist for the fourth year. Nevertheless, I smiled broadly at it, knowing it would mean a trip to Diagon Alley.

Tom appeared to have received his booklist as well, as he was in better spirits that day. We arranged to go buy them that weekend, after obtaining permission from Mrs. Cole. Following our purchases, the last dregs of summer passed by infinitely more quickly. I absorbed the new material as rationally as I could, determined to let it last me the final wretched two weeks before we were back in King's Cross.

It ended up being a wise decision to review and preview, for upon arrival in my first class, we were all informed of the importance of the OWLs we would be sitting before long. There was certainly a new rigor to the class, that was for sure, but other than the work, the year passed by uneventfully.

The summer of 1942, in retrospect, was when things began to change.

I saw Tom less that summer than I normally did when we were at Wool's. I thought he spent almost all his time shut up in his room, appearing sporadically at meals.

What on earth was he doing? Not magic, surely. He'd be expelled, and he knew that. But I would hear strange things from his room sometimes. I thought that he must have been practicing spells of some sort, for the words I heard were not English, or any other language that I knew of, for that matter. I guessed he must have been reading books he had somehow managed to fit into his trunk, along with everything else that filled the case up the brim on its own.

When I did see him, though, he would be in an oddly happy mood. The first time I noticed it, he brushed it off with a "nothing" in reply. Then I asked him what he was doing that occupied so much of his time, and he said simply, "reading". So I was right about that suspicion, but I couldn't pull any more out of him. "I'll tell you more about it sometime," Tom said, before getting up, discarding his dishes, and returning back upstairs. Eating quickly was another oddity he seemed to have developed these past weeks.

Tom's newfound happiness was amplified the day that we received our booklists that summer. He found me at breakfast, which he normally skipped, a broad smile on his face.

"Wasn't expecting you," I said, sparing him a look before returning to my cereal.

"I wasn't expecting this," he said in reply, handing me a piece of parchment. I glanced at him briefly and took it.

_Dear Mr. Riddle,_ the letter began.

_It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been nominated by Professor Slughorn to serve as Prefect for the House of Slytherin from the academic year 1942-1943 onward. I am happy to confirm his recommendation with this letter._

_Your duties will commence September 1 aboard the Hogwarts Express. Please report to the Head Boy and Girl in Compartment 1 at the start of the journey to receive instructions. Upon your arrival at Hogwarts, you will be advised further on your responsibilities and how to succeed in your new role. Enclosed is a brief description of expectations, which you should review now. Additionally, you will find your Prefect badge, to be worn on the front of your robes when on duty._

_In acting as Prefect, you join a special class of Hogwarts students and will be held to that standard at all times. Any abuse of your authority will be punished accordingly._

_Congratulations on receiving this position. _

_Professor Armando Dippet,_

_Headmaster_

I handed it back to him. "That's wonderful Tom, well done."

His face furrowed. "But you received the same, I assume?"

I shrugged. "Apparently not."

Tom's hand with the letter fell. "Oh. I'm sorry, then, I thought you would have for sure—"

"Ah, it's all right," I said. I didn't mind, truthfully. It hadn't even occurred to me to anticipate it. "It doesn't matter to me. Less to worry about, right?"

* * *

**A/N: Hurrah for the last interlude chapter! From here on out it's Evelyn and Tom's fifth, sixth, and seventh years, so I'm excited to finally get into the real meat of the story. Thanks for sticking by through the build up, looking forward to sharing the nitty gritty of their final years :)**


	26. Part III: Chapter 1 – Dark and Red

**PART III**

**Chapter 1 – Dark and Red**

**...**

I had never ridden the Hogwarts Express on my own before, but there was a first time for everything. Diana, it turned out, had been the girl chosen for Prefect this year, as she had told me that morning when I found her. She too had the same concerned look Tom had had when she revealed the news, though I hadn't been too surprised.

In all honesty, I really wasn't disappointed I hadn't been picked. I figured the position warranted two people who were preferably the most sensible, levelheaded, and/or had leadership qualities. I wasn't sure if Tom was the most approachable person in the House, but he was certainly the most intelligent and most mature, that was for sure. As for Diana—she was more outgoing than I was, louder, and more likely to be confrontational, important when serving a role that was partly disciplinary in nature. Besides, fifth year was the most notorious year other than seventh for being terribly busy. Having one less responsibility couldn't hurt me. If there was part of the decision that I regretted, it would be that I'd probably be able to spend less time with both of them, as evidenced now.

I rested my head against the seat and gazed out the window. We were only a little ways out of London, neighborhoods streaking by and forming a brownish-white blur. I closed my eyes, content to indulge in a short nap—the first day at Hogwarts was always a long one.

I woke up only after the compartment door was thrown open. I jerked awake at the sound, accompanied by the loud announcement of my name by Diana.

"Oh…you guys are back," I said slowly, still slightly groggy. The houses outside were gone and we were rushing past greenery now. I must have been asleep for an hour. "How was it?"

"Oh, nothing that interesting," Diana said. "There wasn't anything worth repeating, that's for sure."

I grinned. "Sorry to hear it."

"Oh, forget about that," Diana said impatiently. "How have you been?"

I shrugged. "I'm all right. You know how it is. Wool's isn't exactly the pinnacle of excitement. Especially since my only ally spent all his time cooped up in his room," I said accusatorially.

"Guilty as charged," Tom admitted.

Diana gave an annoyed sigh. "Really, Tom?"

"How else am I supposed to get twelve OWLs this year if I'm not revising every minute?"

Diana groaned. "Don't remind me. It's all my mother went on about all summer."

The mentioning of our forthcoming OWLs likewise gave me a little jolt. "Well, it's only September," I said. "June is a long time away from now. You and I do all right, Diana, don't worry."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tom smirk a little and turn his face away before he had fixed his features into his normal expression.

"That's true," Diana was saying. "At least we've managed to figure Arithmancy out…"

As the train pressed on, it began to rain. I had seen it coming, the light blue sky that was the same color of my eyes graying steadily as we continued to journey north. The tinkling drops at grown into harsh lacerations of rain before we crossed into Scotland. The train rumbled on resolutely, but the compartments were now shaking, the now-illuminated lights trembling above us.

"Reminds me of the common room," I said wistfully.

"Shouldn't be long now," Tom said, joining me at the window to gaze outside at the hills.

He was right, we realized. Tom and Diana had been in their Hogwarts robes since boarding on account of having to be at the Prefects' compartment, but I was still wearing my Muggle dress. While I didn't dislike it, it was nice to slip back into the familiar Hogwarts uniform and feel the soft wool.

The rain was still beating down on us when we disembarked at Hogsmeade station. I reached up to pull the hood of the robes over my head, but stopped when a felt a hand on my own. It was Tom. He waved his wand, and an umbrella suddenly appeared before us. He opened it up and held it up.

"Your hair looks nice today," he said simply. "It would be a shame to cover it up."

I stared at him for a moment in shock—and then looked away quickly so he wouldn't see the red rising in my face. It was the first time Tom had ever complimented me on my appearance.

"Should we find a carriage?" Diana interrupted, her voice coming from behind. I spun around.

"Ah, yes—" I agreed, flustered. She elbowed me knowingly as she drew length to us, letting me know she had caught the entire exchange. I felt another fleeting rush of pleasure and embarrassment.

Tom led the way to the nearest available coach, letting Diana and I climb in first before settling in across us on the opposite side. He slammed the door shut, leaving us to watch the rivulets run down the side of the window while the drops pattered on the roof.

I was sure we were about to move any second when someone very large and bulky passed by our carriage. It stopped and then bent down, revealing itself to be Hagrid. He waved cheerily at us, seemingly unbothered by the steady stream of water falling onto his shoulders and head. I waved back at him, and then reached to open the door of the carriage.

"Hello Hagrid!" I said. "How are you?"

"Not bad, Evelyn," he said, grinning. "Knew it had ter be yeh when I passed by."

"Well, I'm glad you found us," I said. "You're a third year now, right?"

"Tha's right," he said proudly.

"Good year," I said. "You must be taking Care of Magical Creatures, this year? You'll have so much fun—well, you know what it's like."

But the excitement was still evident in Hagrid's face as he nodded. "I can' wait," he said. "Kettleburn apparen'ly has a great line o' creatures this year—"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," I said quickly, noticing the line of carriages starting to move up front, "but I think you better find yourself a carriage before you get left here."

Hagrid turned around and jumped. "Blimey! See yeh later, Evelyn!." He dashed out of sight, my cue to close the door again.

"It's nice to see he looks like he's in good spirits," I said, almost to myself. "His dad died last year, didn't he? And his mum had gone before then…"

I didn't say aloud the obvious—although Tom and Hagrid had made their peace long ago (albeit indirectly through me), I still got the sense neither of them were totally comfortable around each other, or with each other, to be precise. Well, it was what it was. As long as they weren't openly combative, I didn't mind too much. I didn't see Hagrid that often to begin with, so I could put up with a little awkwardness for his sake.

The rain continued to faithfully fall as the carriages began to move. I think this was the first time it had rained on the first day. Although the path was periodically lit with floating lanterns impervious to the water, most of the grounds beyond their illumination were dark. Hogsmeade station and the surrounding village were like fireflies now, the lights winking in the dark. My eyes drifted to the black expanse of the Forbidden Forest, looking more ominous than usual with the moon illuminating the craggy trees. I didn't know anyone, except for perhaps the professors, who had ever been in the forest. What was in there that made it so prohibited? If it was something really awful, it would have surely wreaked its terror on the school long ago. So something passive, dangerous only when approached or provoked.

"What's on your mind?" Diana suddenly asked, noticing my silence.

I nodded at the forest. "What do you think lives in there that makes it so no one can go in? It must be terrifying."

"I've heard there's a herd of centaurs in there," Tom spoke up. "And unicorns."

Diana and I stared at each other in awe. "Unicorns?" Diana repeated. "Well, wouldn't that be something to see one—?" She sat up a little straighter and smoothed her skirt. "Though, I would still never dare."

"Of course not," Tom said. "Besides, if it was just centaurs and unicorns in there, there wouldn't be much reason to banning us from it, would there; they're safe enough for us even if they don't like us. No, apparently it also has things like trolls too. Big ones."

I didn't wonder how Tom knew what lived in the Forbidden Forest; he soaked up probably more information than was good for him. The carriage was slowing to stop now, though, and I turned my mind to something other than lumbering trolls—the succulent feast that was awaiting us in the Great Hall.


	27. Part III: Chapter 2 – The Unexpected One

**Chapter 2 – The Unexpected One**

**...**

Although we were only two weeks into the year, the weight of our future OWL exams were already fully impressed into our minds by our professors. Almost each class started out with a lengthy presentation concerning the gravity of the exams we were to take, how it was to our utmost advantage to be consummate students this year, and to keep a rigorous study schedule outside of classes. We must have been reading at least twice as much as we had been in previous years, with twice as difficult material to cover. Mental breakdowns seemed to be anticipated; indeed, on the bulletin board in the common room we found pamphlets for managing school and leisure, and other than stressing academic work, professors also made a point to recommend seeing Madame Abbey, should we experience any anxiety or nervous habits throughout the year.

So it didn't look like it was going to be a year with much downtime. The girls in my dorm, Diana, Rachel, Emma, and I, all tended to stay up together, practicing enchantments and going over the day's texts and lectures. Our OWLs were so far from now that I had a hard time convincing myself to work too hard, even if I knew that I wasn't the best magic—I wasn't terrible, but I wasn't Tom either.

He, of course, seemed totally unfazed by the increase in workload. Rather, he took it in stride, almost seeming to thrive in the pressure. He fell into his Prefect role perfectly too, awing all the first years with his knowledge and striking all the girls dumb with just his look.

I admit, I was jealous of Tom at times. The model student, so gifted and talented in everything he attempted. I doubt there was a student so prodigious as him, save perhaps Dumbledore or the Founders themselves. Everyone knew him. More than that, they _liked_ him…for obvious reasons. He was polite and modest about his abilities, always willing to give a helping hand to professor or peer. Sometimes I felt like a single drop of water in the vast ocean of those who were connected to him. If our time together had lessened, it was a negligible amount; I still was able to see him in between classes and usually after dinner, when he was not as likely to be surrounded by his cronies, and he paid me as much mind as he always had. But I still felt I was in danger of losing him. It was a rather petulant view, I knew, but one I couldn't shake off easily.

Halloween was drawing closer, making it harder for everyone to focus on their studies. I found my mind wandering far too often to the Great Hall being decorated with ginormous pumpkins and enjoying a hearty feast while bats flew overhead. This meant making up the time in the library at night, a distinctly less cozy setting that was not as conducive to daydreaming. When dinner ended, I headed straight to work to get two hours in before I was forced back to the Slytherin common room before the nine o'clock curfew.

By then, the halls would be mostly empty, save for late-studiers like myself and roaming prefects. I normally kept my head down and walked as quickly as I could, but on one occasion, when I was only a few turns away from the common room, I heard the sound of shuffling feet. I paused, curious. This part of the dungeons was normally empty at this time of day, and even if there were people coming through these halls, they would have been coming from the right, not from the left where I had heard the feet. Dithering for a moment, I turned in the direction of the noise, walking slowly—

"Oh—" I walked straight into a broad chest. Losing myself, I pushed back frantically and stumbled a few steps away, noticing only after a second of confusion, I had walked into Hagrid.

"Evelyn!" he said, his voice hushed and panicked. "Sorry, I din' see yeh there! Yeh all right'?"

I nodded, thoroughly shocked. "What in the world are you doing here?" _And when you're supposed to be in your dorm?_ I silently added to myself.

"Well, I—nothin'," he said loudly. As he spoke, my eyes were drawn to his hands. Enormous as they were, I could still make out parts of the object he was attempting to hide with them: a large box. Seeing me notice it, Hagrid gave a blustery sort of laugh. "Nothin' in here, Evelyn," he said. "See?" He lifted the lid to show me. Indeed, inside were only a few wads of cotton.

"You ought to get back to the Gryffindor Tower," I said slowly. "You're lucky it's me who caught you breaking your curfew and not someone with actual authority. Now hurry and go on!"

Hagrid gave me a grin. "Right yeh are." Looking as if he was very glad to be leaving the scene, he tucked the box under his arm and took off.

I stood still where I was for several moments. What was all that about? What reason would Hagrid have to be out of bed at this hour, carrying an empty box around, and in the dungeons of all places? I looked down the hall Hagrid had come through, whispering _Lumos_ to see it better, but could find nothing incriminating.

He had definitely been up to something, though, I knew. The situation was just too strange. I pocketed my wand and sighed, but my relief was premature, for the second time that night, I was caught off guard.

"Evelyn!"

I jumped at the sudden address in the otherwise silent corridor. Walking towards me in with a stern expression on his face was Tom, his wand aloft and illuminated.

"Hello Tom," I said wearily.

"You do realize it's after nine?"

"It is?!" I cried. "Damn it…"

Tom's flinty look relaxed into an easy smile. "No need to worry. I won't report you. Friendly bonus."

At that, I had to smile back at him. It was nice to know he could joke.

"Why are you out here, though?" Tom asked.

"I…" I faltered. I hadn't wanted to let Tom know Hagrid was the reason. It would just set off more alarm bells. "I thought I heard something," I said instead. It wasn't lying, not really. "I wanted to see if there was anything there."

"Through here?" Tom said, gesturing. I nodded. "Come with me."

He began to venture down the passageway, slowly, until we reached the end where a wooden door stood closed. Tom tried the doorknob; it opened and we went into the abandoned dungeon. We raised our lit wands and looked around.

It was an empty classroom, identical to the ones that we had Potions in: rows of tables set up, two blackboards, and storage cupboards to the side. Like all the other dungeons used for instruction, there were no windows here. Combined with the low light, the place appeared oddly sinister.

"…There's nothing here," I said after a few minutes of roaming the room.

"I suppose not," Tom agreed, but he continued to search carefully. I stayed where I was and revolved on the spot, casting my gaze to the stony ceiling. The light from the tip of my wand just reached the heights, exploring the corners until—

I let out a gasp and nearly dropped my wand, backing into one of the desks.

"Evelyn? What is it?" Tom said sharply, coming over at once.

I collected myself, pointing into the corner furthest from me. "I saw something," I stammered. "Up there—"

Tom's wand joined mine, sweeping the adjacent areas, but even our joint effort revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

"What did it look like?" Tom said.

"Something big," I said. "A—long, skinny leg. And it must have been fast if we can't find it anymore."

"Long skinny leg, huh?" Tom repeated. He strolled away from me, as if he were to return back to the common room, when he stopped. He was leaning over the bin by the door, examining the insides. I went over to see what had grasped his attention: white pieces of something, the color off a little bit, like they had been there for a long time. Tom bent down to pick one up.

"Looks like egg shells," I said. They were much larger than normal eggs one ate for breakfast, however, and much thicker as well.

Tom's eyes drifted for a moment, a signal that he was deep in thought. Then his gaze slid back to the shell piece, which he dropped back in the bin. I tried reading his expression: something was odd about it. After a moment, though, a satisfied smile graced his face, like something had suddenly been made clear to him.

"Come on, Evelyn," he said. "Let's head back."

"What—?" I said, surprised by his new lack of interest.

"I think I know what's going on. Rubeus just has a little project he's working on, that's all."

"You saw him?" I almost gasped.

"Of course. He only knows one way out of here, doesn't he?" Tom pointed out. "No need to worry. I didn't say anything."

"And…you're not going to call him out on this?" I wanted to know.

Tom shrugged. "It's not harming anyone."


	28. Part III: Chapter 3 – To Be Decrypted

**Chapter 3 – The Process of Decryption**

**...**

In the weeks after catching Hagrid in the dungeons, I saw no difference in his demeanor. Any time we crossed paths, we acted like it had never occurred. I myself even went back to the same dungeon a few separate occasions, but it looked as it had the first time I had inspected it with Tom.

I had more important things to occupy my time with, however. OWLs preparation was as rigorous and always lurking in the back of my mind. Surprisingly enough, it was not Arithmancy that gave me the most trouble, but Transfiguration. Try as I might, I could not quite achieve to vanish the whole of my rat, even after two weeks of practice, resulting in Dumbledore assigning me extra homework, to my embarrassment. I was sure I had made so many attempts that the core of my wand had to have been burned out. Diana wasn't have much more luck in Potions, her Strengthening Solution so thin not even Slughorn could muster up a compliment. Our solace were trips to Hogsmeade, but even those we viewed with mixed feelings: the weather was turning terribly bitter, the days ever shorter, and the trek to the little village did not always seem like it was worth it, when we could instead be putting more time into our studies.

"You have too much of a guilty conscience. It would do you some good to get out of here for a little bit," Emma said to me one weekend as she tied two scarves around herself before she left. When I shook my head, she sighed. "You want me to get you anything?"

"No thanks," I said, still focused on my reading. When she had left, I glanced at my bed, covered in sheets of parchment. I shuffled them together haphazardly and dropped the stack on the floor, and fell back onto the pillows, not regretting my decision to stay inside at all.

The sharp winds had become more biting than ever this winter, doing nothing to encourage studying. Rather, they they discouraged it, as nights by the fire were also infinitely more cozy in the cold. Even though the Slytherin dungeon should have been the chilliest in the castle, I felt it just grew warmer than ever when the cold weather arrived, like some magic insulator was keeping all the heat in—which there probably was.

Whereas the comfiness of the common room made some sleepy and inert, irritability was setting upon other students. The usual suspects, those who made up Tom's gang, were particularly unbearable these days, confusedly: It wasn't as if they were exceptional students collapsing under OWLs stress and therefore more tetchy than they normally were (unfortunately, they weren't abysmal slackers either, so I couldn't be sure I'd be rid of them at least in my classes come sixth year). And yet, every evening they had to take it upon themselves to harass someone else. I noticed they were wary to bother me directly, most likely to due my association to their ringleader, but they certainly had no qualms about stirring up a scene in the common room to molest everyone else. I was happy when Slughorn finally intervened one night and assigned them all detentions, a rare action for him.

It wasn't just Rosier and Avery and Dolohov and Nott and Lestrange who had a penchant for being more than just slightly irksome. One evening in December when Tom and I were on the way to the library, we heard a strange, caterwauling sound echoing off the walls. Tom and I glanced at each other before silently agreeing to investigate. It was slightly difficult to locate the source, as the noise kept bouncing around us, but when we finally did, I was not totally surprised to see two girls in the passageway, one of them being Myrtle Warren.

I was sorry to say it didn't seem Myrtle fit in any more now than she had two years ago when she first arrived at Hogwarts. If anything, she was even more out of place. Smack of the middle of transitioning into adolescence, her awkwardness was in full display, and her tendency to duck her head down caused her thin brown hair to fall in front of her face, discouraging potential friends. And when she did lift her face up, all one could take notice of were her enormous glasses, thick-lensed and perennially-smudged. I heard even in her own House, not many approached her. People from around the castle for the most part were polite and cordial to her—but I didn't know anyone who would call themselves a friend of Myrtle Warren. Perhaps because although intelligent, her merits may have stopped there. I only knew her vaguely, of course, but I remembered my last interaction with her well, when she had rejected my attempt to make conversation with her.

It was not Myrtle, however, who was making the loud whining sounds that had caught our attention. Instead, it was the second girl, appearing to be the same age as Myrtle. She walked closely along Myrtle, who was keeping her head down, clearly trying to avoid the jeers, but failing.

"Oooh, Myyyrrtle," the girl crooned, "Going to hide in those glasses of yours, you—"

"What's going on here?" Tom said loudly, from the end of the hall where we were. Both girls pulled up short and stared at us. "Here," Tom said simply. No other explanation was needed: the two girls approached us, the second taking care to distance herself at last from Myrtle.

"What's your name? And your House," Tom questioned the girl, who was now staring at her feet in a manner similar to Myrtle's. The girl mumbled something, but Tom said, "What? Speak up, you just demonstrated you're perfectly capable of making yourself heard."

The girl went even more red than she already was as she said dully, "Olive Hornby, Gryffindor."

"Well, Miss Olive Hornby," Tom said, "I very much doubt that your Head of House would like to have the good name of Gryffindor tarnished with your actions tonight, so lay off your peers. The brave and courageous do not need to belittle others to feel validation." He regarded Olive for a moment, while she stood there, her face working. She wasn't convinced, I could tell, but said nothing. "Now get back to your tower before I change my mind about telling Professor Dumbledore about this."

With a jerky motion, Olive did as she was told. Once she had disappeared around the corner, Tom glanced at me and shrugged, signaling his intention to leave as well. I caught up to him only after stealing a brief backward look towards Myrtle, who was frozen where she was, wide eyes staring at Tom's back, her face up for once.

"Well done," I complimented, now that we were back on track. It had been my first time seeing Tom really step into his role; I was impressed at the dignity with which he had conducted himself and the authority he commanded.

Tom didn't spare me his gaze. "Just business," he said nonchalantly.

We walked a few more steps before I said, "You know, I think she might fancy you now."

"Who?"

"Myrtle, you idiot," I said, feeling emboldened.

This time Tom did consider at me. "What makes you think that?"

"The look on her face, of course." I smiled, half to myself. "I can understand it: poor, plain Myrtle, essentially the runt of the school's litter, suddenly rescued from torment by the perfect prefect Tom Riddle, our the model student. Isn't that how all the fairy tales start?"

"That's silly," Tom scoffed. "I didn't do it just for her anyway; I would have done the same for anyone."

"Ah, yes, naturally," I agreed cheerfully. "You don't discriminate."

"Besides, even if what you say were true, it would mean nothing," Tom went on, like he hadn't heard me. "I'm not interested. In her or anyone, for that matter."

That gave me pause. "No one?" I said carefully.

Now he stopped walking altogether. Still looking straight ahead, several moments passed before he spoke with an immense amount of deliberation. "If there was one, I'd know her better than Myrtle Warren, you can count on that." He stared at a spot in front of him, seeming to think for a minute, before carrying on his swift pace.

* * *

It was stupid, but I spent much of the Christmas holidays replaying that conversation over and over again.

The illusive Tom Riddle's romantic life, or lack thereof, certainly was enigmatic enough to fill that much time. He was easily the best-looking at school. Countless number of girls would eye him with frank appreciation as he walked the halls, each of them hoping, I'm sure, he would return the gesture.

He never did, of course. Not in the way they all wanted him to, with an invitation to Hogsmeade or something similar.

I also was aware that the same girls would follow me around with envious glares of their own as well, no doubt curious as to why I commanded such familiarity with Tom. It wasn't common knowledge outside Slytherin that we had grown up together, so it was to be expected that Tom's company would draw some questions, especially when I wasn't anywhere near as prodigious as Tom was when it came to magic.

Could he have been referring to _me_ just then?

It felt much too arrogant of an assumption to make, but when I weighed my reasons and racked my brains for other possibilities, I felt reasonably justified in perhaps thinking so: I without a doubt had known him the longest, he wasn't afraid to reveal his thoughts to me, and maybe most important, we were each others' magical links during the summer. We reminded each other of the place we both shared a mutual love for. I don't know if anyone else could claim the same, except for Professor Dippet.

Tom hadn't said anything definite; his entire statement had been a hypothetical…but I had an inkling it had been because he knew he had to say something, but hadn't known _what_ to say exactly. He was trying to be as direct as possible—without being direct. It was certainly his style to do something like that.

Damn Tom and his habit of being so cryptic.

I had never entertained the idea that Tom could even think about me in that sense, mostly because I thought it would never happen. It just seemed not at all a part of who he was. But now this—and I remembered he how he had complimented me earlier on the first day. Compliments might have been normal for most friends, but I knew Tom well enough to recognize that he didn't say just anything to anyone. He meant everything he said.

And me, what was I being so investigative for? Tom was extraordinarily handsome, not just in everyone else's eye but mine as well. He made me smile, he made me happy. He was always considerate of me and obliging, willing to help and wanting to see me succeed.

Did I dare to think the unthinkable?

* * *

**A/N: Ho hum...what does it all mean?**

**Just to keep you all updated on the writing process, I have a few more chapters queued up, it's just a matter of making them reader-worthy, so rest assured they will be coming eventually in the new year. If you have any thoughts, your reviews are very much appreciated. Thanks as always for sticking with me and bearing with my sporadic updating; your support means everything! Hope you all have a nice holiday :)**


	29. Part III: Chapter 4 – Petra and Pace

**Chapter 4 – Petra and Pace**

**...**

I did dare, after all, and ended up hating myself for it. I didn't discuss with Tom the conversation that day in the hall, or any of the thoughts I had as a result of it, for two reasons. 1) I was not a Gryffindor and couldn't bring myself to brave such a discussion so soon, and 2) my own thoughts were so jumbled I could hardly decipher them myself, much less out loud to the person in question. Nor did I reveal my thinking to Diana, as I wanted to keep it a secret for a little while longer.

In January, we returned to regular classes. If we had thought our professors were being hard before, it was nothing to what we were facing currently, now only a few months away from our OWLs. What was more, we were soon informed that we'd all be meeting with our Heads of House in order to discuss future career options and which OWLs we would definitely need. Assigned slots were posted on the common room notice board the first week back from the holiday. I was to see Slughorn that Friday ten minutes before six in the evening.

I went into the meeting with some trepidation, not knowing what to expect. I was aware he didn't lavish praise over me like he did with other choice students, but Slughorn was at least a jovial man.

Knocking on the door right on the minute, I heard a cheerful, "Come in, come in" from the interior, and I let myself through the door. Slughorn wasn't at his desk, but rather a long side table, making himself a drink and helping himself to some crystallized pineapple. The clinking glass and rustling of paper against the snaps of the fire made a wonderfully hedonistic sound. I stood awkwardly in the threshold before he turned round and saw me. He laughed heartily.

"Well, do sit down, my dear girl, sit down!" he invited, doing so himself with a satisfied. He took a long draught from his glass before clearing his throat and peering at me.

"So—magical careers! Lots of options! If you do well in June that is," he amended, chortling to himself, apparently amused by his joke. When he saw that I wasn't, he cleared his throat again. "Never mind, though. All you need to do is your best and you'll find success, eh?" He winked, earning a half smile from me.

"Now then!" he said, back to his usual energy. "What were you thinking about? Give me an idea." He leaned back in his fine leather chair indulgently.

I took a while thinking before shaking my head. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it too much."

"Not to worry," Slughorn said, as if my answer was one he heard all the time. From his desk, he opened a drawer and took out a moderately-sized file, which I could only assume was all his information on me. He rifled through the papers before choosing one and holding it to the light. "Hmm…well, you're in luck, Miss Spencer. Strong performances in Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, not a bad hand at Potions either, as I can attest to…" His eyes traveled further down the paper before they lit up. "Oho!" he exclaimed. "Even doing quite well in Arithmancy, eh?" He winked at me again. "Difficult subject that is."

"Yes, sir," I agreed.

"My point is, Miss Spencer, is that if you do as well on your OWLs as you've been doing in your regular classes, you won't need to worry that you have not yet decided what you might want to do in the future. Of course, the most lucrative careers all usually require OWLs of Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding in the same core subjects, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts Herbology, and Potions…"

Slughorn leaned back even further in his seat and took another drink, inspecting me. "Perhaps you could work at the Ministry," he suggested. "Have you thought about it?"

I shook my head.

Slughorn reached from where he was and gave me a packet. "Do that. And take a look at these as well," he added, anding me several more pamphlets and papers. "And remember what I said, hm? Keep up with those academics."

_Well, anyone could have told me that_, I thought, somewhat annoyed as I made my way to the Great Hall for dinner and feeling like I hadn't gained much from the last five minutes. As I walked, however, I examined the few things Slughorn had left me with. Maybe I could work at the Ministry; the Department of International Magical Cooperation sounded interesting…I shuffled the papers and looked at another. Or perhaps a Healer, I did well in the required subjects and could see myself working at a hospital—

"Unf!" Immersed in reading, my foot caught on something and I stumbled, my papers scattering to the ground. Irritated, I picked myself up and began to gather my belongings together, but my eyes then dropped on what I had tripped on and I froze.

It was a body, a student lying on the ground, motionless. My heart in my throat, I stayed where I was kneeling, staring at it. The body was of a girl; her face partly obscured by her hair. She looked older than me, however, probably a sixth or seventh year.

I looked around, but the corridor was abandoned. Everyone was at dinner right now. What had happened? She looked unconscious—could she be dead? I couldn't find any sign of possible injury. Hardly daring to breathe, I raised myself to stand and crept towards the girl, but even as I did, I could see one of her arms raised rigidly, like a statue of some sort. Half underneath her was a thick book, and in her hand was a large magnifying glass, the lens cracked and broken. I frowned. If she were dead, she would have been limp—

Some sort of awareness fell over me then, and I became much more conscious of the fact that I was alone in the hall, and its deep quietness. Suddenly frightened, I backed away, turned around, and sprinted towards the Great Hall. I don't know what I had just seen, but I knew it couldn't be normal, or safe. Who could I tell? I didn't know who this girl was, or what House she was in, but before I had time to try to conjure the name of someone to consult, I had burst into the Great Hall and I shouted out to the most obvious of people:

"Professor Dippet!"

The hall shushed and then immediately broke out into murmurs, but I ignored them. I had run all the way to the dais where the staff table was, and now stopped, panting, in front of the center seat, where Dippet sat.

"Professor Dippet—you must—come—see something—I found," I said in between pants. "I—I don't know—what it is—but I think—it must—be—very important!"

There was a long moment of silence from the staff as they stared at me, as I knew the the entire hall was staring at me. I must have looked a sight, out of breath, looking a mess, and making some odd, desperate plea, but I didn't care. I bent over and rested my hands on my knees to recover, irritated when I glanced up again that Dippet and all the other teachers were still appraising me with some confusion.

"Look, I'm telling you, it's important!" I said angrily. "I don't know what it is, but—" I cut myself off when I saw Dippet and Dumbledore lean close together and exchange some whispers. Finally Dippet stood up.

"Very well, Miss Spencer," he said, "I shall follow you."

Flooded with relief, I nodded and led him to where I knew the girl to be lying inert. She was still there when we arrived, in the exact same position as I had left her.

"I just found her like this," I said. "I didn't do anything, I swear Professor—"

Dippet was now turning the girl over and examining her carefully.

"Is she dead?" I barely asked.

"No," Dippet said, his response so swift I didn't doubt him. "She has been Petrified."

"By—by what?"

"I cannot be sure," Dippet said. "The girl has been Petrified," he repeated to someone over my shoulder, and I jumped when I realized how quietly Dumbledore had appeared behind us. "She needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing. Miss Spencer, will you please fetch Madam Abbey? After that, I would like you to please return to your common room."

"I—yes." I went off my head buzzing. Petrified? Who could have Petrified someone inside Hogwarts? The only people here were students and professors. A student attacking a peer this badly was surely grounds for suspension, if not expulsion, and what possible reason could someone have for risking that much? Who could have done it? And why her? Was it by chance?

"Madam Abbey!"

The matron came at once.

"Professor Dippet needs you to bring a student here right away," I said, before Madam Abbey could say anything. "He's by the portrait of Sir Geoffrey the Dancing Fool."

With Madam Abbey bustling off, I had nothing else to do but to do as Dippet instructed and retire to the Slytherin dorms. Hoping that the common room would be empty when I arrived, I sped up my walk to avoid a potential crowd.

The common room, however, to my despair, seemed even more full than it usually was in the evening. As soon I entered, I felt all eyes on me again, and I suddenly felt pinned to where I stood, small and vulnerable. My spine prickled uncomfortably and I pressed myself hard against the wall. Behind me, so no one else would see, my hands traced the stones aimlessly, until my fingers clenched around my cardigan.

"All right, everyone mind your own business!" I heard someone call. My gaze snapped to the side, where I saw Diana and Tom standing, now striding purposefully towards me. I saw them, and suddenly everything seemed to make a little more sense. As the tension broke, each grabbed a hold of my arm and steered me towards an unfamiliar part of the dungeon, the boys' chambers.

We stopped a ways from the common room and Tom opened the door. I felt a jolt; this was of course his own room. When we were inside and the door had shut again, he and Diana faced me.

"What was it?" he said.

"A girl lying on the floor," I said automatically. "She was Petrified, that's what Dippet said, I-I don't know what had happened, she was just _there_, frozen like a rock or something, I've never see anything like it and just didn't know what to do—"

As I spoke, I turned away from the two and wandered around the little space, trying to gain a sense of what I was saying, but I knew I was just blathering myself, my mouth running like a motor.

"Hey, Evelyn!" Diana said.

I stopped.

"Don't worry about it," she said soothingly. "Just try to be calm, all right?"

"Be calm?" I repeated. I nodded several times. "Be calm. I'm going to do that." I took a deep breath, and tried to slow my breathing. Clear my mind. Think. My gaze roved from Diana's encouraging expression to Tom's fiercely intense one. It loosened when we locked eyes, and I suddenly felt a hand close on mine.

Then—_bang!_ The door burst open, and I instinctively tightened my grip around Tom's.

"Hey, Spencer, want us to take you to the Hospital Wing too?" Lestrange hooted, a few others standing around him, all laughing raucously. "I can hold you hand if you—" Lestrange made a strange choking sound all of a sudden, his eyes widening.

"I thought I said to mind your own business?" Tom said dangerously, half turning his head to glare at the crowd in the door. I couldn't see his expression myself, but the group sobered up and, after a pregnant pause, left immediately, each of them tripping over the other in his haste.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"No, it's nothing," I said, shaking my head. But I could feel my heart racing again. From my peripheral vision, I saw Diana and Tom exchange looks. My free hand had curled around the bedpost.

"Look, you've had enough for the night," Diana said, getting to her feet. "We'll go back to our room, get you something to eat?"

"Okay," I said, wanting nothing more than to lie down myself, but not wanting to relinquish the feeling of Tom's hold. It was reassuringly constant. "Okay."

Diana's mouth twitched then, a little teasingly I thought, despite the circumstances. "Okay, then," she echoed. "See you tomorrow, Tom."

He acknowledged her with a slight tilt of his head, then turned to me. "You heard Diana, all right? Relax. It'll be fine tomorrow."

I stared back at him. "Yes, I will—" Abruptly, I freed myself from him, all at once embarrassed. I tried reading his face, which had now changed.

Something about it jarred me. Even after Diana and I were safe back in our room, I still had the image in my head. It was dark. Like he was angry about something…but something else was there too, something that I couldn't quite place…

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. Diana opened the door, but there was no person there. Instead, a goblet was on the floor, a tag tied around it. Diana picked it up, read the note, and then handed the cup, filled with a turquoise potion that emanated silver, to me. I fumbled to find the message in handwriting I recognized:

_For sleeping. _


	30. Part III: Chapter 5 – More

**Chapter 5 – More**

**...**

I didn't find out what the potion was until the next morning, when Diana informed me it was a Draught of Peace. She explained prefects had access to a small stash of it to use at their discretion (abuse being disciplined, of course).

Along with me learning how Tom had got the Draught of Peace, it also seemed that the entire school knew what had happened last night by the next day. Neither had anyone forgotten the scene I had made at dinner, and I passed through as many stares as I ever had that morning. My mind was thankfully wrapped up in OWLs studying, as well as my own questions concerning last night, to pay much mind.

At lunch, carried whispers delivered to all the students the name of the girl who had been Petrified: Catherine Williamson from Ravenclaw. She was still lying in the Hospital Wing, completely frozen. It would be a while until she would be cured; apparently the remedy required some special type of plant, the greenhouses at Hogwarts didn't have any as of late, and deliveries were taking some time.

"It's supposed to be a bigger matter with the higher ups," Emma informed us a few nights later, as we held our hands over the warmer in the center of our room. The gurgling hum from the lake was emphasized only flurries of bubbles that swished past—it seemed like there was a storm. "Professor Dippet wanted her to be transferred to St. Mungo's since they'd have her fixed up like that—" she snapped her fingers, "—but the Board of Governors forbade it, since that would mean having to explain how she got Petrified in the first place. Didn't want to give Hogwarts a bad reputation."

"Is the Board that corrupt?" I said disbelievingly. "Surely a student's health is more important than what people think of the school?"

Emma shrugged. "You would think, but they still struck it down. Dippet was really furious, I heard. Got into a big argument with them, but he couldn't do anything about it."

"And her parents?" Diana asked. "Do they know?"

"I think so," Rachel said. "They're Muggles, though, you see. Supposed to be coming by to see her, but it's harder for them to get here. I'm guessing someone will have them picked up or something."

I was still thinking about what Emma had said. "But wait. What do you mean that the school would have to explain how she got Petrified in the first place? Don't they know we aren't sure either?"

"Search me," Emma said.

* * *

When March came, it seemed the whole incident had mostly been forgotten. Our days had settled back into regularity and routine, and everyone had plenty to do. I finally Vanished a whole rat, which, combined with the warming weather, put me in cheerier spirits that left me almost confident about my OWLs for the first time.

And then just as suddenly, another student was found in the same Petrified state as Catherine. This time I learned about it second hand, when I woke up one morning. The common room was abuzz with the news, that Samuel Adler had been discovered. The name gave me jolt, for unlike the previous occasions, I recognized it. He was in our year, and I had seen him many times throughout the years in different classes. Murmurs swept through the castle again, and Samuel was hurriedly taken to the Hospital Wing and placed alongside Catherine.

I saw Tom that day sitting at his usual spot on the sofa by the hearth, staring blankly into the flames. I knew he must have heard my footsteps, but I paused upon approaching him, staring at his dark head. I thought he looked a lonely figure, but nevertheless cut from an impressive cloth.

"Are you all right?" I asked, reaching to feel his hand. "You're rather warm and I don't think it's because of the fire," I said after a touch. "I hope you're not coming down with something."

He half smiled at me without any surprise, confirming my suspicions that he had been aware of me. "What? Oh, I'm not sure. I might be," he said distractedly. His gaze returned to the fire. He was thinking intently, but his face was infuriatingly passive. All I could see was that same oddness I had detected the night I had run into Hagrid after his curfew.

I came around the edge of the sofa and sat next to him. "Do...you want to talk about anything?" I stretched my words out, knowing how awkward they must have come across. They felt unnatural enough coming out of my mouth.

"No, nothing."

I eyed him carefully, remembering all the times Tom had brushed me off, or when I had been left trying to decipher his mind purely based on an expression. "Tom—I do wish you wouldn't keep so much to yourself all the time." I spoke lightly, to try to persuade him, but with a touch of steel to make sure he did not misunderstand me.

"Am I obligated to tell you everything I think?"

"No," I conceded. "But you are—so private, Tom. To a degree most people would find…strange."

"Do you?" In contrast to his short, clipped tone a second ago, his answer now was of a gentler color. It was one, I knew, that he reserved only when speaking to me.

"To be honest, Tom, yes, I do," I admitted. "You're so difficult to read, and if you say so little…well, it's difficult to know what you're thinking sometimes."

"Lucky that they're my thoughts, then, right?"

He wasn't going to break that easily, I thought. Perhaps my frustration showed, because he sighed.

"If I come off as aloof, I'm sorry," Tom said. "It's only because…well, I assume I spent so long of my life keeping my thoughts my own. I never learned how to tell them to other people. And if I try to now…maybe I won't be able to. Not with words, anyway."

"You're doing it now," I encouraged.

"The others never mentioned it," Tom muttered, almost to himself.

"Because they don't care about you," I dared to say. "Not enough to want to make you a better person."

"Is that what you call this?"

The touch of derisiveness in his tone broke my resolve. It shouldn't have, since I was by now well aware of Tom's penchant for not always being the most tactful as a child still sometimes slipped through—It had just then, leaving me feeling all at once like a fool, even more so for my prior inner boast of having the distinction of being the only person Tom showed a shred of softness towards. I supposed I had been misguided in that vein. Without a word, I rose to leave, but even as I did, Tom cried, "Evelyn, wait—!" He scrambled up and met me on the other side of the couch, catching my wrist.

"Evelyn, I'm-I'm sorry for what I just said. I really am," he blurted out, his face distraught. "I know—I'm just a insensitive prick, who—who keeps everything to myself—because-because I'm afraid of moments exactly like now. Not knowing what to say and ending up just hurting people who only want the best for me, making them realize that they should have nothing to do with me since I'm such a bastard. Because I really need them, even if I don't deserve them, and especially not you; I know I really don't—" He looked away abruptly, as if he felt his own countenance and was caught in a panic.

I stared at him. He had just been ranting like I had never seen before. "Do you really mean that?"

"…And more." The words sounded almost like he was in pain, wrenched out of him.

I could hardly breathe then, but I had to ask—

"What is more?"

Tom said nothing, only kept his eyes on the ground. Then he leaned forward—closer—to murmur, "I'm not quite brave enough yet to show you."

At his words, a shiver passed through me. This time when he moved away, he fixed his gaze on me, unwavering as it ever was. His face was earnest, like a child's, without a trace of his trademark smirk. Only a sort of heightened feverishness, a result of his excitement, could be found. It was the most transparent I had ever Tom.

"Oi, Riddle, you coming?" someone barked, and the tension splintered. Avery and Rosier stood at the big entrance door, expectant, but I could only pay attention to the blooming heat that warmed my face and body.

"On my way," Tom replied casually, a hint of his drawl returning, but his eyes and expression still open to me.

"You had better not keep them waiting," I managed, following a moment of silence.

Tom nodded absently. "I'll see you later then," he said, and turned away. As he did, I saw his face morph back to the charming and haughty that was his default. Still handsome, but somewhat diminished without the sincerity I had just witnessed.

* * *

By May, no fewer than three people were found Petrified. Most disturbing of all, I sat waiting in Arithmancy with the rest of the class for nearly fifteen minutes for Professor Elkins to arrive, growing increasingly confused, as she was never late. Finally the door opened and we all turned, expectant, but found not Professor Elkins walking in, but Dumbledore, who wore the most solemn expression. My heart fell.

"I apologize for the wait," he began, in a tone appropriate for a funeral. "It is my utmost regret to inform you all that Professor Elkins has been taken to the Hospital Wing." He didn't need to elaborate; we all knew what he meant. Cries broke out immediately, hushed almost as quickly when Dumbledore opened his mouth again.

"Naturally, this is very distressing, and particularly worrying for you students, given you have your OWLs exams coming up soon…" He spoke heavily and slowly, like the words were being dragged out of him. "However, rest assured that you will not go without instruction. I will personally be overseeing this class for the remainder of the year…" He sighed. I peered around fleetingly: faces were as bleak as I had ever seen them—I felt the same on the inside. How could our professor have been one of the victims?

The lesson for that day was a subdued one; no one really felt like working and Dumbledore didn't much push us to either. When the bell rang, he deterred us only to say that he expected us to all listen to announcements that the Prefects were to deliver that night.

What followed was another somber affair. We were told all curfews were curtailed and any out-of-hours roaming was only be allowed for prefects or those accompanying them. No one was to be out in the halls without a peer, including during the day, and all activities related to Quidditch were to be suspended. Furthermore, the password to enter the common room would be changing with higher frequency now.

I wasn't surprised that no one protested against the new regulations, at least outwardly. Everyone, it seemed to me, to be scared stiff about what was happening. Rumors were growing more fantastic by the day, students on edge all the time. I noticed even Tom's gang was causing less trouble these past several weeks.

I couldn't help but feel a certain degree of security, however. After the third attack, it hadn't taken long for people to recognize the one common thread: all the victims were Muggle-born—and I wasn't. None of my friends were…at least that I knew of. Tom—well, I didn't know for sure…but he was so talented, he couldn't be have been...

I sometimes felt a little sick that I had such thoughts and kept them buried deep, careful not to reveal them. But at the same time, I couldn't help but wonder. Surely it was human to react that way? To feel relieved nothing was going to happen to you or anyone you cared about, even if that meant it would to someone else?

As the crowd dispersed for bed, I stayed where I was, thinking back to Dumbledore in Arithmancy today. His soberness had prepared me for the worst, like we would all be on the Hogwarts Express the very next day. I had expected something more than just rules.

"Then what were you expecting?" Tom's voice suddenly said.

I started, not realizing I had spoken aloud.

"Ah, you mean in terms of more than just rules?" I repeated, flustered.

"Yes, that's what you said."

"Er…well…" I lowered my voice. "Perhaps something along the lines of…Hogwarts being closed?"

Tom's eyes flashed. "How did you know?" he said at last, his voice even more quiet than mine.

"What—it's true, then?" I said in shock: a confirmation so soon was jarring.

Tom scowled. "Not officially, no. But Slughorn mentioned it to me a few days ago when I was having dinner with him, that Dippet was thinking of telling us. Apparently, now the Ministry's involved too..."

Again, it wasn't a completely unfounded decision, given the circumstances. I knew some younger students had already been withdrawn for the year. The idea of it being feasible, though…I imagined my life back at the orphanage before I had known I was a witch. I remember well that the discovery had caused me my own grief, but now? I couldn't go back to what I had been living after experiencing Hogwarts.

"But—what will we do?" I asked.

"I don't know," Tom muttered. "If Hogwarts closes…" He curled his fingers into a fist. "I can hardly stand that place for three months, let alone until I'm eighteen. We need this school to stay open. No matter what." Tom bounced his fist on his knee for a moment. "What if we wrote him a letter?" he suggested.

"Who?"

"Dippet," Tom said. "We'll both write him a letter, asking him if we can stay at Hogwarts for the summer. Both of us here for three months with everyone else gone, that'll convince people Hogwarts is safe, will it?"

"Yes, but we're not targets!" I hissed, struck by Tom's instantaneous quickness. I would have laughed aloud if I wasn't so dumbstruck. "Dippet surely knows that, and besides, what are the chances of him—"

"We won't know unless we try, will we?" Tom asked. I still hesitated. The rashness in Tom just now was something I had never seen out of him. I saw so many potential problems in what he wanted to do and couldn't help but think it would just be a waste of time. Besides, the very idea!

"I…we can't simply…_live_ at Hogwarts while it's not term, Tom. We're not adults, we're not staff, how could we?"

"What's wrong with it? We're living here now, aren't we? It's not like we need to look after the entire castle ourselves. Two people—it'd be like we weren't even here."

"Tom…"

"Please, Evelyn," Tom said quietly. "Just trying won't do any harm. We'll have a stronger case with the both of us. And you know that the orphanage is no place for people like us."

I sighed and looked at him. In his face I saw a storm of emotions—excitement and anger were there, but also the tiniest fraction of desperation. Tom didn't beg for anything. Didn't _need_ to beg for anything. And yet he was begging me now.

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**A/N: Thank you for the recent reviews that have come in! As before, I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please do consider leaving them; the support is very much appreciated! Thanks to those who have been sticking with the story as well :)**


	31. Part III: Chapter 31 – This Wonderland

**Chapter 6 – This Wonderland**

**...**

_To Professor Dippet,_

_ I am writing not on a delicate matter. Given the recent events at Hogwarts, it is my understanding that discussion regarding its future has been raised, in a manner that is most concerning. My utmost wish is for the school to remain open for as long as possible, not only for all students, but also for more, I admit, selfish motives. _

_ I therefore ask with the greatest urgency that I, along with Tom Riddle, be permitted to remain at Hogwarts for the summer holiday. I realise this is likely the opposite of what is being recommended for students, but there is nothing more that we would rather happen, to show that there is nothing to be afraid of at Hogwarts. Please do not misunderstand me or believe me to be in a state of hysteria, for I am quite genuine in my request. I would very much welcome any further discussion about a possible summer residence if you would be so inclined. _

_Respectfully, _

_Evelyn Spencer_

_5th year, Slytherin_

* * *

The weekend before our OWLs, it seemed as if nothing was going on outside in the halls of Hogwarts. As soon as our final study lesson had ended on Friday, every single fifth year was going back to his or her respective dorm, with the complete understanding there would be emergence only for meals or to the library for a change of scene (given that it was before curfew).

I was of course among them, shutting myself up in our room. Transfiguration was our first exam, which I was glad for. I knew it would keep racking on my brain until I finally dealt with it, so it would be a relief to get it out of the way to focus on other subjects. Potions was our next, which I was fairly confident in. Slughorn had taught us well, and since he was our Head of House, was always willing to give us tips when he passed us. And in addition two the afternoon open sessions he was holding Saturday and Sunday for students to come to his classroom and brew whatever potion they wanted, he had assured the Slytherins that he had an extra stash of ingredients that he was going to let us use special in the evening. I wasn't sure if this was exactly fair, but I wasn't going to complain about it.

I was almost grateful our OWLs were finally just a breath away. For so long, we had been using it as a distraction to the horrible business of people being Petrified, but it had always been a feeble one, since they were so far away. Now that they hung over us, dictating our every move so strictly like a puppet master, they truly were blessings in disguise. I wasn't sure what to be more miserable about, the stress and impending trepidation of taking so many exams, or the thought of Muggle-borns walking around the school just waiting to be attacked.

I spent that Friday revising on my own, scarfing down some dinner, and heading straight to the showers afterward to use the rest of the night uninterrupted. The following morning saw a similar routine, as I woke up early (but not too early) to grab breakfast and study in the common room with Diana. After lunch, which tended to be when I was most distracted, Tom joined me in the library and we tackled the most difficult subjects—Transfiguration for me and—well, nothing was really difficult for Tom, so he mostly just flipped through books he thought were interesting. More often than not, though, he would get up and wander off to some different section of the library and return some time later without explanation. Then following dinner, when we were all confined to the Slytherin dungeons again, I went solo until it was time for bed. Such was to be my study schedule for the next two weeks.

The weekend passed this way, in a blur of explanations, theories, and enchantments. It felt like I had been at the cinema for forty-eight hours straight, with a bunch of images just flying past my eye until they all melded together. I knew I wasn't going hysterical, like some others did, but I could feel I was definitely jittery with nerves. Sunday evening, after I had snapped the tips of several quills from pressing too hard, Diana cornered me with another goblet of Draught of Peace to force me to sleep, which I took only half begrudgingly, knowing its positive benefits.

I could hardly eat any breakfast in the morning but forced myself to slowly nibble away at a slice of toast and down half a glass of orange juice. It was easy to tell with a furtive glance up and down the table who was a fifth year and who wasn't. When students began to file out to attend their morning classes, the rest of us were shuffled into a large antechamber while the Great Hall was transformed, milling about to hide our discomfort.

Twenty minutes before ten, Dumbledore appeared to let us back in. We were told any seat was available to us, to take nothing in the Great Hall with us, and that the strictest anti-cheating spells had been cast. We were not to speak once the doors had closed and would be allowed to ask any final questions five minutes before we were to begin. If we finished early, we were to wait in silence. As he spieled, I found Diana's hand and squeezed it. She turned and smiled at me reassuringly. After an eternity, I faintly heard Dumbledore say "good luck", and suddenly the doors were open.

I intentionally took a seat in the first row, not wanting to see anyone else while working. At the front of the hall, where the professors normally ate at meals, a lonely table had been erected facing us. Behind that, what seemed like an gigantic pocket watch was suspended from the ceiling, the seconds hand ticking away resolutely even as I watched. I turned instead to the desk I had seated myself at. There was a pot of ink and two fresh quills, along with a light blue booklet, reading

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_Ordinary Wizarding Levels_

_Transfiguration - Theoretical Exam_

_June 1943_

And then, as I watched, _Evelyn Grace Spencer_ was being carefully scribed at the bottom of the cover. Another line appeared under my name, with the words "Sign here for identification" blinking slowly at me. I did so. The name that had appeared magically a second ago, along with the signature I had just penned, both turned a shining emerald green.

The hall was silent now. I glanced around uneasily, seeing other people do the same. Someone coughed. The sound bounced off the walls until they were replaced by the footsteps of a man in front.

He was unfamiliar to me. He wore a fine black cloak, on which the letters _WEA_ and the symbol of the Ministry of Magic were sewn onto the breast. His motions were casual, relaxed, which only made me more nervous. Without meaning, to I drew my hands along the edge of the desk, pressing very hard on the wood to settle myself.

"You are about to begin the theoretical portion of your Transfiguration Ordinary Wizarding Levels," the man said. "There is a time allotment of ninety minutes, which shall be indicated behind me." He gestured at the clock. "Remain at your desk with your exam script when you finish. Are there any questions?" The man paused and surveyed the crowd. I racked my brain but could think of nothing, which only made me more nervous. I was sure I'd think of something just as the exam began, after my chance had passed.

The man nodded. "Very well. We will begin at precisely eleven, at my word."

My hands began to sweat. I picked up one of the quills and preemptively dipped it into the well of ink, my left hand hovering over the corner of the booklet. The next three minutes were agonizing. I watched the clock inch closer and closer...

"Begin."

* * *

When we were released, I couldn't help but grin. My head felt stuffed, but there had been no catastrophes, I thought. I had at least been able to think of some answer to each question. Tom was swept away by his cronies as soon as we left, and I was too far away from him to say anything, so I met up with Diana and rehashed the exam over lunch to help prepare for the practical portion that afternoon, which was a much more exciting affair.

We were again in the Great Hall, but groups of about seven us at a time were inside. It looked like there was an attempt to give each student and the proctors some privacy to relieve the pressure, but it wasn't much help. Bursts of light, puffs of smoke, and the various cries of differing animals could be clearly heard and seen by everyone in the vicinity.

I was directed to a middle-aged woman with half her right arm missing. As I told her my details, she winked at me, which emboldened me a bit.

On the whole, I thought I did as well as I could have managed. Given that there were ten different areas to be examined, and I stumbled on two, I felt I had done better than my peers, one of them somehow managing to turn his finger into a worm, instead of the kettle that was meant to be his target. My biggest mishap had been somehow making a squirrel that had previously been a drinking glass balloon to the size of a large terrier before hastily shrinking it again.

The fact that there were still another nine days of testing to go was daunting. They dragged by in a monotonous, head-splitting routine, but I was buoyed with the passing of each successive exam. With the completion of Astronomy during the second week, I felt myself noticeably chipper—there was nothing inordinately difficult left now. Indeed, by that point, I think everyone was just impatient for the whole thing to be done with, myself included. I still studied diligently, not wishing to end the exams on a bad note, making the final practical on Friday all the more sweet when I was at last ushered out upon completion.

I couldn't help but laugh upon seeing the expression Diana sported when I found her leaning against a pillar, waiting for my completion.

"Free at last!" she cried, giggling, as she took my arms to embrace me briefly, before we had to break apart and take little jumps where we stood and frantically clap our hands on each other, too exhilarated with our success.

"About time!" I agreed, resisting the urge also skip in circles. "Oh, I thought it would never be over!" It was truly wonderful to know that the culmination of five years' of education was finally gone and done with. I felt as light as a feather, with a bounce in my step and the hold around my heart a little looser.

A great celebration was held that afternoon in the common room. Flagons of butterbeer and pumpkin juice on every table, blaring music, and what seemed like the entirety of Honeydukes were all available to us while we chatted, in complete leisure for perhaps the first time the whole year. Some of the furniture had been pushed around to make a space for dancing, and orbs of light that changed color were bobbing above.

In the midst of everything, I searched for Tom. I had not seen him before we had all gathered for the Herbology practical. He appeared to have disappeared after lunch, off some place by himself. No one could tell me where he might be, and I had no desire to ask anyone in his gang. It wouldn't be surprising to me to learn that he might have escaped the common room for some peace and quie—even after finishing our OWLs, it wasn't much Tom's cup of tea to party. So I set down my goblet of butterbeer on a table and went to look in the library, but even as I went for the door, it swung open and Tom came through, unnoticed by the others amid the activity.

"Tom!" I began. "Where were you, I've been looking everywhere—"

I couldn't finish my sentence, because in that moment I realized Tom was walking directly towards me, his eyes alight and his face animated and filled with more delight than I had ever seen it before. Then he was was right before me, and, thinking for a split second what might happen next, I felt in that moment all the adrenaline in me spike, and a great thrill when his lips met mine.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I was super nervous about this chapter, but I hope that you all enjoyed it and that all the OWLs prep was worth it! Please let me know what you think in the reviews!**


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